PROPERTY  OF 
WEST  HOLLYWOOD  WOMANS  CLUB 


BY 

L.    H.    HAMMOND 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  MASTER-WORD."  "m  BLACK  AND 

WHITE,"    ETC. 


NEW   YORK 

THOMAS   Y.    CROWELL   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1916, 
BY  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 


Co 
LUCY   AND   CALDWELL 

IN    MEMORY    OF   THE   WHEELED-CHAIR    SUMMER 
AT   PEN-Y-BBYN 


3136064  ' 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.  A  COUNTRY  CHILD    .....          1 

II.  BIRD  CORNERS            .....        16 

III.  IN  MAKE  BELIEVE     .....       37 

IV.  THE  DARK  O'  THE  YEAR  ...        57 
V.  PREMONITIONS             .          .          .          .          .        81 

VI.  BEFORE  THE  DAWN    .          .         .          .          .115 

VII.  SPRING  MAGIC             .          .          .          .          .      126 

VIII.  BLACKBIRD  DIPLOMACY        .          .          .          .150 

IX.  THE  PROOF  OF  COURAGE    .          .          .          .169 

X.  THE  ROUTING  OF  UNCLE  JASON            .          .186 

XI.  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT       .          .      204 

XII.  IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT      .          .          .     229 

XIII.  WHILE  THE  NEST  WAS  BUILDING         .         ,241 


PROPERTY  OF 
WEST  HOLLYWOOD  WOMANS  CLUB 


A  COUNTRY  CHILD 

THERE  is  one  thing,  at  least,  in  this  puzzling 
world  which,  though  everything  changes  it, 
nothing  can  spoil:  and  that  is  out-of-doors. 
Long  ago,  when  this  place  was  stately  old 
Cedarhurst  instead  of  home-y  Bird  Corners, 
and  I  a  wilful  small  girl  climbing  trees  and 
tearing  my  frocks  whenever  Great- aunt  Vir- 
ginia and  Great-aunt  Letitia  were  both  look- 
ing the  other  way  at  the  same  time — a  coin- 
dence  as  blissful  as  it  was  infrequent — I 
thought  being  outdoors  was  heaven  enough  for 
anybody. 

In  the  long  winter  afternoons  I  sat  by  the 
big  wood  fire  in  the  back  parlor  and  hemmed 
towels  and  napkins — when  I  wasn't  pulling 
out  yesterday's  work  because  Great-aunt  Vir- 
ginia found  the  stitches  too  big:  and  I  looked 
out  at  the  cold,  bare  hills,  blue  and  beautiful 

1 


2      IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

against  the  pale  sky,  and  longed  to  play  over 
them  like  the  winds,  and  to  be  whirled  up  into 
the  air  like  the  brown  leaves  which  scurried 
about  them  all  winter  long.  And  in  the  spring, 
when  the  budding  branches  draped  the  trees 
with  jewelled  mists,  all  silver  and  green  and 
gold  and  ruby  red,  I  wished  the  great-aunts 
had  learned  to  play  on  the  grass  with  their 
whole  selves,  instead  of  just  with  their  fingers 
on  the  big  old  rosewood  piano,  which  stood 
stiff  and  square  in  the  front  parlor,  an  instru- 
ment of  torture  to  rebellious  hands  that  longed 
to  be  pulling  wild  flowers,  and  to  ears  tuned  to 
catch  the  songs  of  birds.  And  in  summer  time, 
when  the  rain  blotted  out  the  hills,  and  every 
leaf  of  every  tree  sang  the  Song  of  the  Rush- 
ing Winds;  when  the  lightning  ran  zigzag  all 
over  the  sky  and  the  thunder  jarred  the  house 
—oh,  why  should  great-aunts  call  one  indoors, 
and  shut  the  free  winds  out,  and  put  cotton 
in  their  ears,  and  make  little  girls  come  away 
from  the  windows,  and  the  chimneys,  and 
every  place  where  they  wanted  to  be,  instead 
of  leaving  them  out  in  the  rain  to  be  drenched 
like  the  flowers  and  shake  themselves  dry  like 
the  birds? 


A   COUNTRY   CHILD  8 

And  in  autuirn — but  those  memories  are 
too  painful!  On  frosty  days  the  house  was 
shut  tight,  the  log  fires  kindled,  and  my  small 
person  swathed  in  insufferable  flannels — flan- 
nels!— in  a  Tennessee  October!  And  when  I 
rebelled,  there  were  fearsome  tales  of  children 
who  had  died  of  pneumonia,  or  gone  into  con- 
sumption, because  their  misguided  relatives  had 
allowed  them  to  play  outdoors  in  the  cold. 

And  yet  outdoors  was  never  more  beautiful. 
Some  of  the  hills  were  far  and  blue,  and  some 
were  near  and  green,  or  brown  with  stubble, 
or  yellow  with  stalks  of  corn.  The  grass  in 
the  pasture  was  greenest  green;  and  when  I 
slipped  out  on  the  back  porch  the  sycamores 
down  by  the  brook  rustled  their  drying  leaves 
and  called  me  as  loud  as  they  dared.  And 
the  doves  flew  by  in  flocks,  and  the  killdeers 
whirred  up  from  the  valley  with  wild,  free 
cries,  and  the  field-larks  sang  on  the  fence- 
posts,  or  lighted  on  the  short,  sweet  grass,  the 
white  of  their  outer  tail  feathers  shining  in 
the  sun.  But  Great-aunt  Letitia  would  call 
me  back  to  the  parlor,  where  she  made  tea, 
which  she  and  Great-aunt  Virginia  drank, 
sitting  in  rosewood  arm-chairs,  dressed  in  soft 


shimmering  silks,  with  cobwebby  lace  about 
their  throats. 

I  myself  balanced  unhappily  upon  one  of 
the  big  square  ottomans,  too  small  to  get  far 
enough  back  on  it  to  have  any  purchase  against 
the  slippery  horsehair,  and  painfully  conscious 
of  Great-aunt  Virginia's  eyes  on  my  awkward- 
ly swinging  feet.  I  kept  my  place  as  best  I 
could,  holding  a  bit  of  egg-shell  china,  and 
sipping  my  odious  cambric  tea. 

This  was  the  chosen  time  to  instill  proper 
principles  of  conduct  into  my  callous  little 
soul.  The  gentle  old  aunts  made  a  duet  of  it, 
and  I  always  thought  they  practiced  it  to- 
gether beforehand,  like  a  "piece"  on  the  piano. 
It  was  really  very  easy  not  to  hear! 

I  always  sat  on  the  ottoman  nearest  the 
center  table.  The  other  was  nearer  the  east 
window,  and  showed  the  long  front  drive  bor- 
dered by  the  stiff  lines  of  cedars,  which  gave 
Cedarhurst  its  name  before  the  great-aunts 
were  born.  But  the  one  by  the  table  had  the 
double  advantage  of  giving  me  a  dutiful  ap- 
pearance, being  equally  distant  from  both  of 
the  arm  chairs,  and  of  allowing  me,  by  an 
almost  imperceptible  sliding  to  one  corner,  to 
look  out  of  the  silver-maple  window  to  the  jug 


A   COUNTRY   CHILD  5 

of  water  I  kept  in  the  center  of  the  seven 
trunks,  a  drinking  fountain  for  all  the  birds  of 
the  place.  I  sat  very  still  during  the  duet,  my 
head  raised  a  little  to  see  the  lowest  branches, 
where  the  birds  always  alighted;  and  I  often 
quite  forgot  my  cambric  tea  until  Great-aunt 
Letitia  gently  reminded  me  of  it.  My  docility 
touched  them  very  much.  I  heard  Great-aunt 
Letitia  tell  Great-aunt  Virginia  one  day  that 
she  was  afraid  I  would  never  live  to  grow  up, 
my  expression  was  so  rapt  when  they  urged  my 
duty  upon  me;  and  she  felt  as  though  there 
were  an  invisible  halo  above  my  little  brown 
head.  I  was  running  in  through  the  hall  when  I 
heard  this,  and  stopped  in  breathless  amaze- 
ment. I  had  no  thought  of  eavesdropping, 
but  I  saw  Great-aunt  Virgina  wipe  her  eyes; 
and  Great-aunt  Letitia  almost  sniffed.  I  sat 
stiller  than  ever  after  that,  and  rolled  my  eyes 
a  little;  and  Great-aunt  Letitia  sent  for  the 
doctor,  who  said  I  needed  calico  dresses  and 
mud  pies.  The  great-aunts  were  shocked  at 
first,  but  the  doctor  was  firm.  And  after  that 
I  played  outdoors  unless  the  thermometer  was 
very  unkind  and  the  wind  in  an  especially 
dangerous  quarter. 

There  are  really  two  of  the-most-beautiful- 


6      IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

place-in-the-world.  One  of  them  is  the  real 
outdoors ;  and  the  other  is  outdoors  in  the  Land 
of  Make-Believe.  The  advantage  of  the  real 
outdoors  is  that  its  loveliness  is  ready-made. 
One  invents  nothing;  one  merely  opens  eyes 
and  ears  and  soul  to  drink  in  beauty  and  joy, 
and  learns,  almost  without  knowing  it,  the 
most  curious  and  interesting  things.  The  ad- 
vantage of  Make-Believe  is  that  when  things 
are  as  they  shouldn't  be,  one  can  instantly 
step  over  into  that  blessed  country  and  make 
them  be  exactly  what  they  should.  No  one 
ever  sees  you  do  it,  either,  or  guesses  that  you 
can  make  a  world  in  a  twinkling,  out  of  dreams. 
It  has  all  the  charm  and  mystery  of  a  fairy 
ring,  or  fern  seed,  or  Aladdin's  lamp.  One's 
body  can  perch  on  a  horsehair  piano  stool, 
twisting  one's  two  little  meat  legs  about  its 
one  fat  leg  of  rosewood,  and  great-aunts  may 
be  sure  you  are  practising  scales  most  faith- 
fully; and  all  the  time  you  are  really  running 
races  in  the  wind  with  charming,  dirty  children 
who  tear  their  dresses  all  day  long,  and  never 
had  their  hair  in  curl  papers  in  their  lives. 

And  that  is  only  the  beginning.     For  one 
can  learn  so  well  the  road  to  that  dear  land 


A   COUNTRY    CHILD  7 

that  one  never  forgets  it,  even  in  grown-up 
days.  There  is  never  any  sickness  in  Make- 
Believe.  One  can  walk  and  run  there  always, 
though  one's  body  lies  weak  and  helpless,  or 
drags  slowly  about,  year  after  year,  in  a  world 
that  is  full  of  pain.  One  can  slip  away  from 
the  long,  black,  sleepless  nights  into  a  lovely 
world  where  imagination  is  the  motive  power, 
and  all  one  needs  and  all  one  longs  for  lie 
ready  to  one's  hand. 

It  was  the  January  after  I  was  sixteen  that 
Cedarhurst  burned  down.  It  was  a  bitter 
cold  time;  and  the  heaviest  snow  I  had  ever 
seen  turned  my  familiar  world  into  fairyland 
under  the  winter  moon. 

It  was  Great-aunt  Letitia  who  found  the 
fire.  She  had  been  looking  for  it  all  her  life. 
One  of  the  most  familiar  memories  of  my  child- 
hood is  the  waking  at  night  to  hear  a  soft 
rustle  past  my  open  door — the  doors  were  al- 
ways left  open  that  we  might  smell  the  fire 
when  we  really  had  one — and  to  see  Great- 
aunt  Letitia,  her  white  hair  tucked  away  under 
a  dainty  nightcap  and  the  light  of  her  candle 
bringing  out  soft  gleams  in  her  flowered  silk 


8      IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

dressing  gown,  as  she  followed  her  highbred 
nose  to  the  spot  where  it  assured  her  a  fire  had 
broken  out.  It  used  to  frighten  me  at  first; 
but  I  grew  too  accustomed  to  it  even  to  wake. 
So  it  taxed  my  credulity  to  the  utmost  when, 
on  that  bitter  night,  she  roused  me  to  tell  me 
with  tense  white  lips  that  Cedarhurst  was  in 
flames. 

How  the  fire  started,  we  never  knew.  It 
burst  through  the  floor  of  the  empty  guest 
room  first,  and  the  ceiling  of  the  dining  room 
below  it.  But  however  it  started,  it  was  there ; 
and  there  was  no  one  to  fight  it  but  two  fragile 
old  ladies,  a  half-grown  girl,  and  the  terrified 
Negroes.  It  was  before  the  days  of  rural  tele- 
phones, and  the  house  was  in  ruins  before  any 
one  in  the  village  knew  our  need.  We  carried 
the  news  ourselves  when  we  drove  into  Chat- 
terton  in  the  gray  dawn,  shivering  with  cold. 
We  were  all  fully  dressed,  of  course;  the 
great-aunts  would  have  perished  in  the  flames 
before  they  would  have  shocked  the  stars  of 
heaven  by  appearing  outdoors  in  the  mildest 
disarray.  And  we  saved  the  family  silver,  a 
portrait  or  two,  great-grandmother's  sewing 
table,  a  few  books,  and  the  clothes  upon  our 
backs. 


A    COUNTRY    CHILD  9 

On  the  way  to  the  village  Great-aunt  Vir- 
ginia said  we  had  much  to  be  thankful  for. 
in  that  our  lives  were  spared ;  but  hers,  had  we 
known  it,  was  already  lost.  She  had  stood 
in  the  snow  after  the  flames  barred  all  access 
to  the  house,  until  the  roof  fell  in  and  her  birth- 
place was  a  mass  of  ruins ;  and  before  we  had 
been  a  week  at  the  home  of  her  nephew,  Cousin 
William  Wrenn,  she  had  died  of  pneumonia, 
leaving  Great-aunt  Letitia  and  me,  as  she  told 
us  in  the  parting,  alone  and  unprotected  save 
for  the  Father  of  all,  to  whom  she  trusted  us. 

But  Great-aunt  Letitia,  whom  every  one  ex- 
pected to  wither  and  droop  without  her  sister's 
sheltering  care,  developed  an  amazing  power 
of  decision.  She  seemd  crushed  at  first.  But  on 
the  fourth  day  after  Great-aunt  Virginia  had 
been  laid  to  rest  in  the  hillside  burial  ground 
at  home,  she  came  into  the  family  sitting  room, 
looking,  in  her  deep  mourning,  very  tall  and 
white  and  frail,  and  announced  that  she  had 
decided  not  to  rebuild  Cedarhurst,  but  to  go  to 
the  city  to  live. 

I  could  scarcely  believe  my  ears.  The  city's 
outmost  edge  was  only  fifteen  miles  away,  but 
even  the  village  of  Chatterton,  peopled  large- 
ly by  our  own  relatives,  seemed  crowded  and 


10    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

bustling  after  the  wide  quiet  of  the  fields  at 
home.  That  this  frail,  retiring  old  lady  should 
contemplate  a  plunge  into  the  vortex  of  a  city 
whose  inhabitants  were  numbered  by  tens  of 
thousands — really  several  tens — seemed  mad- 
ness. But  her  determination  was  fixed. 

"  This  dear  child  needs  the  advantages  of 
city  life,"  she  declared.  "  I  always  found  the 
country  exceedingly  quiet  myself,  and-er  not 
altogether — progressive.  But  I  deferred  to  Sis- 
ter Virginia's  judgment.  Now,  however — "  her 
voice  trembled  a  moment,  and  then  went  on 
quite  steadily — "the  responsibility  is  mine,  and 
I  cannot  shirk  it.  I  think  Lydia  should 
have  city  advantages.  I  shall  go  there  and 
devote  myself  to  her  education,  and  prepare 
for  her  entrance  into  society  at  the  proper 
time." 

Argument  was  of  no  avail.  When  I  avouch- 
ed my  preference  for  the  country  she  said 
quietly  that  I  knew  nothing  of  the  city  yet, 
and  that  every  one  should  try  more  than  one 
side  of  life  before  making  a  final  choice.  She 
was  very  gentle,  but  Great-aunt  Virginia  her- 
self could  not  have  been  more  inflexible.  We 
went,  to  the  envy  of  my  cousin,  Billy  Wrenn, 


A   COUNTRY    CHILD  11 

and  to  my  own  silent  and  passionate  grief. 

As  I  grew  older,  Aunt  Letitia  grew  young- 
er— younger,  that  is,  in  her  ideas  and  in  her 
desires  for  me.  She  cared  far  more  than  I 
about  my  clothes,  and  took  a  livelier  interest 
in  possible  lovers.  I  understood,  beneath  this 
late  blossoming  of  pleasure  in  what  she  called 
gay  life,  the  starved  aspirations  of  her  own 
youth,  shut  away  in  the  seclusion  of  her  beau- 
tiful home  during  the  many  years  of  her  wid- 
owed mother's  invalidism  and  morbid  grieving 
for  her  husband.  There  were  times  when  her 
dead-and-gone  girlhood  rose  to  life  in  her  eyes, 
and  a  soft  color  tinged  her  delicate  cheeks,  as 
she  imagined  for  me  some  small  social  triumph 
or  admired  me  in  some  new  dress.  I  divined 
that  she  was  immensely  interested  in  my  men 
friends,  though  her  shyness  in  discussing  them 
was  even  greater  than  her  interest.  I  won- 
dered often  if  she  had  a  love-story  of  her  own ; 
but  I  never  knew.  My  own  love-story,  when 
it  came,  gave  her  great  happiness;  and  for 
three  years  after  my  marriage  she  lived  with 
us  in  great  content,  and  passed  out  at  last  in 
utter  peace. 

My  husband  is  known  in  our  family  circle 


12    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

as  the  Peon,  since  he  entered  into  a  contract  to 
work  for  me  without  wages  for  life.  He 
brought  into  our  home  at  our  marriage  his 
brother's  orphaned  child,  David  Bird,  a  little 
fellow  four  years  of  age,  who  flatly  refused  to 
call  me  auntie  and  dubbed  me  Mammy  Lil. 
That  was  many  years  ago;  and  as  the  time  has 
passed  the  Peon  and  I  have  realized  with  deep- 
ening gratitude  our  debt  to  the  little  child  who 
has  given  our  home  its  crowning  joy.  But 
for  David  we  would  have  been  childless,  grow- 
ing old  alone ;  for  we  owe  Caro  to  David,  too. 
I  have  never  flattered  myself  that  we  could 
have  captured  and  held  the  heart  of  that  trick- 
sey  birdling  if  David  had  not  added  to  our 
attractions  childhood's  lure  to  a  child. 

For  our  years  in  the  city,  however,  we  found 
David  sufficient  in  himself.  He  has  grown  up 
like  the  Peon's  own  son,  sturdy,  steady,  large 
of  body  and  of  heart.  He  has  stood  well  in  his 
classes  without  much  effort;  but  more  because 
it  is  his  disposition  to  do  thoroughly  whatever 
he  does  at  all  than  because  of  any  great  love 
for  books.  He  is  deliberate  in  manner,  and 
somewhat  slow  of  speech ;  and  his  steady  gray 
eyes  seem  made  to  look  facts  in  the  face.  He 


A   COUNTRY   CHILD  18 

has  always  moved  in  straight  lines,  mentally 
and  physically,  cutting  through  obstacles  which 
Caro  would  flutter  around  in  a  twinkling;  yet 
somehow  he  arrived  at  the  goal  in  time  to 
secure  whatever  he  set  out  to  obtain.  He  was 
rather  too  solemn  as  a  child,  and  regarded  me, 
apparently,  somewhat  as  the  Peon  did  at  times, 
with  an  air  of  amused  and  affectionate  toler- 
ance. I  used  to  hunt  through  his  small  per- 
sonality for  the  spark  of  fun  I  was  sure  lay 
hidden  there,  and  as  the  years  passed  I  caught 
the  glint  of  it  more  and  more  frequently;  but 
it  was  really  Caro  who  brought  it  out  into  the 
open,  and  set  it,  a  perpetual  signal,  in  his  eyes. 
I  found  it  easy  to  awaken  in  him  my  own 
love  of  outdoors,  and  together  we  made  friends 
with  such  birds  as  could  be  enticed  to  our 
shady  yard  in  the  city's  outer  circle.  We  were 
sworn  comrades  in  our  enmity  to  the  English 
sparrows,  and  the  bond  of  a  common  foe  was 
one  of  the  many  things  that  drew  us  into  a 
fellowship  unusually  close.  The  Peon  used 
to  say  that  no  boy  came  to  genuine  manhood 
without  something  in  the  way  of  an  evil  to 
hate  and  to  fight;  and  for  my  part  I  joyfully 
set  up  the  English  sparrows  as  the  embodiment 


14    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

of  all  wickedness,  to  be  destroyed  beak  and 
tail.  My  own  objections  to  them  were  the 
result  of  long  watching;  but  David's  hatred 
sprang  to  life  full-fledged  the  morning  we 
found  four  of  the  wretched  bullies  fighting  one 
small  chickadee,  which  hung  head  downward 
from  a  twig  of  privet,  his  eyes  shut  tight,  his 
claws  clenched,  and  his  throat  and  breast  ex- 
posed to  his  enemies'  vicious  bills.  I  think  some 
deep  thirst  for  justice  seized  the  child's  soul 
at  sight  of  the  helpless  victim,  and  ever  since 
he  has  been  mindful  of  weak  things  in  a  way 
surprising  in  a  boy  so  ruggedly  strong. 

He  has  been  wonderfully  mindful  of  me, 
always.  Long  before  we  left  the  city  I  had 
learned  to  enjoy  outdoors  from  a  cot  under 
the  trees  in  the  back  yard.  The  pain  which 
was  to  be  by  turns  my  companion,  my  jailer, 
and  my  emancipator  had  already  laid  upon 
me  an  iron  hand.  I  was  up  and  about  when 
the  Peon  was  at  home;  but  when  he  came  in 
unexpectedly  he  learned  to  look  for  me  under 
the  drooping  silver  maples  in  the  yard ;  and  my 
old-time  love  of  birds  was  an  easy  explanation 
of  the  many-cushioned  cot  and  the  long  hours 
I  daily  spent  upon  it. 


A    COUNTRY    CHILD  15 

David  filled  the  birds'  drinking  fountain 
for  me  when  he  came  home  to  leave  his  books 
and  get  his  bat  or  his  football ;  and  I  would  lie 
there,  watching  my  visitors,  wondering  at  the 
variety  of  birds  to  be  seen  in  a  city  yard,  and 
wishing  the  sparrows'  duels  were  less  on  the 
harmless  French  order.  They  never  fought 
because  they  needed  to  do  it ;  it  was  always  for 
something  perfectly  futile  and  foolish.  They 
would  leave  all  the  food  I  could  scatter  to  tear 
one  crumb  from  a  neighbor.  For  it  is  English- 
sparrow  nature  never  to  be  satisfied  with  what 
they  have,  to  want  only  what  some  one  else  is 
enjoying,  and  to  get  it  for  themselves  if  they 
can.  David  and  I  were  fully  agreed  that  if  any- 
thing more  hateful  was  ever  created  we  wished 
to  be  spared  acquaintance  with  it. 


n 

BIRD  CORNERS 

IT  is  to  Uncle  Milton  that  I  owe  our  return 
to  the  country,  and  all  the  delights  of  Bird 
Corners. 

Uncle  Milton  is  an  inheritance  from  my 
great-aunts  and  Cedarhurst,  where  he  had  the 
finest  flowers  and  the  most  flourishing  vege- 
table garden  in  the  country.  He  is  a  lean  old 
Negro,  tall,  and  straight  as  a  pine.  His  fea- 
tures are  finely  cut;  and  with  his  gray  hair, 
long  gray  moustache,  regular  features,  and 
skin  like  polished  bronze,  he  makes  a  distin- 
guished appearance,  even  in  his  old  blue  jeans. 
He  is  a  real  lover  of  the  outdoor  world,  and 
the  earth  and  the  plants  know  it.  He  bends 
over  the  flower-beds  lovingly,  with  eyes  that 
see,  not  dirt,  but  all  dirt's  possibilities  of  beauty 
and  life.  There  is  never  a  plant  set  carelessly 
nor  a  seed  that  falls  by  chance.  No  wonder 
all  he  touches  grows ! 

16 


BIRD    CORNERS  17 

That  he  went  to  town  with  Great-aunt  Let- 
itia,  and  stayed  there  afterward  with  me,  spoke 
eloquently  of  the  strength  of  affection  between 
us.  But  after  my  great-aunt's  death  he  did  not 
accept  the  situation  without  constant  protests, 
and  the  advice  which  my  youth  and  ignorance 
demanded. 

'  You  ain't  got  no  mo'  business  in  de  city  dan 
I  is,  Miss  Lil,"  he  said  spring  after  spring,  as  I 
sat  on  the  grass  by  the  flower-beds  and  watched 
his  fork  go  in  and  out  like  clock-work,  leaving 
behind  it  long  rows  of  fresh-turned  earth. 
'  You  done  los'  all  dem  roses  you  had  in  yo' 
face  at  home.  Ef  Miss  Ferginny  done  lived 
she  wouldn'  put  up  wid  dis  foolishness  not  er 
minute." 

"But  the  city  is  more  convenient  for  Mr. 
Bird,"  I  would  explain.  "Some  day  when  he 
is  rich  enough  he  expects  to  give  up  business, 
and  then  we  will  go  back." 

"  He'll  be  givin'  up  his  wife  fus*  news  you 
know,"  growled  the  old  man,  stopping  to  thin 
the  thick  border  of  violets.  "/An*  he'll  be  goin' 
to  bury  you  dar  by  Miss  Ferginny  and  Miss 
'Titia  befo'  he  goes  retirin*  from  business  ef  he 
don'  look  out.  We-all  got  er  plenty  ter  live  on 


18    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

now — you  got  er  plenty  widout  his'n ;  en  ef  you 
ain't,  I  kin  make  er  plenty  outen  dat  groun'. 
Hit's  de  riches'  Ian'  in  Davis'son  county.  I 
made  hit  pay  befo',  en  I  kin  do  hit  agin,  stidder 
was'in'  it  on  po'  white-trash  renters  like  you  all 
do.  But  I  'clare  to  gracious,  Miss  Lil,'  ef  you- 
all  don'  go,  I  will.  I  been  mixin'  up  wid  town 
niggers  till  I'm  plumb  wo'  out  wid  'em.  Dis 
is  de  las'  spring  Milton'll  fix  yo'  flowers  in  dis 
mizzable  little  cramped-up  lot." 

He  had  said  this  so  often  that  I  regarded  it 
as  one  of  Nature's  regular  spring  processes; 
and  beyond  a  sudden  deeper  stirring  of  my 
constant  homesickness,  his  threats  passed  unno- 
ticed. But  one  February  morning  he  came  out 
and  stood  by  my  cot  under  the  trees  with  a 
face  at  once  elated  and  downcast. 

"Are  you  going  to  begin  the  spring  work  to- 
day?" I  asked  in  delight. 

He  looked  embarrassed. 

"  Hit's  sorter  early  to  rake  dem  leaves  offen 
de  beds  yit,"  he  said.  Then  he  hesitated.  "I 
spec  I  ain't  gwinter  be  able  ter  do  de  wuk 


no  mo'.' 


"  Are  you  sick?"  I  asked  anxiously.  Then  I 
saw  the  new  look  in  his  face,  and  gasped. 


BIRD    CORNERS  19 

"You're  going  to  the  country!"  I  cried. 

"Yassum,  I  is.  I  can't  stan'  it  yere  no 
longer,  Miss  Lil:  I'm  er  gittin'  too  ole  fer 
town ;  I  des  bleeged  ter  go  out  whar  God  made 
de  worl'  en  breathe  free  en  be  er  man  ergin, 
befo'  I  die." 

The  years  had  slipped  from  him  like  a  cloak, 
I  looked  at  him  enviously — just  as  an  English 
sparrow  might  look  at  some  bird  of  stronger 
flight,  I  reflected  suddenly,  and  scowled  at  one 
of  my  greedy  kinsman  in  the  walk,  trying  to 
gobble  all  the  best  crumbs  at  once. 

"  I'm  glad  for  you,"  I  said  honestly.  "  When 
do  you  go?" 

'  When  my  mont's  out.  But  I  hates  ter  go, 
Miss  Lil." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  here? "  I  demanded,  the 
sparrow  in  me  refusing  to  be  quenched  alto- 
gether. 

"  I'll  do  de  bes'  I  kin,"  he  said.  "  I  been 
lookin'  roun'  fer  you  all  winter.  But  dese 
town  niggers  is  a  onery  set,  fer  sho'.  When 
you-all  comes  home  Milton's  comin'  back." 

"  Never  mind,"  I  said;  "  we'll  manage  some- 
how." 

I  closed  my  eyes  because  they  were  getting 


20    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

full  of  tears.  He  moved  away,  and  I  let  the 
tears  come.  I  wanted  the  country,  too;  and 
more  and  more  as  my  illness  grew,  and  it  be- 
came increasingly  difficult  to  take  my  part  in 
the  busy  city  life.  The  more  one's  bodily  free- 
dom is  restricted  by  weakness  and  pain,  the 
more  one  longs  for  the  unconfmed  spaces  of 
earth  and  air,  for  wide  horizons  and  sweeping 
winds,  and  wings  that  flash  far  up  into  the  sun- 
shine, above  the  shadows  where  one  must  lie, 
conning  the  hard  lesson  of  patient  idleness. 
And  I  wanted  Uncle  Milton — the  visible  link 
between  me  and  that  dear  world  of  hill  and  sky 
for  which  I  longed.  Return  to  it  seemed  so 
bright  a  possibility  while  another  heart,  even 
this  old  Negro's,  held  it  as  dear  as  I.  If  he 
went  from  me  he  would  leave  my  hope  bereft. 
I  lay  with  closed  eyes,  absorbed  in  longing  for 
that  dear  receding  vision  of  delight. 

"  Don'  you  see  how  bad  she  wanter  go,  Marse 
John?"  said  Uncle  Milton  again,  close  beside 
me.  I  sprang  up  in  amazement,  to  find  him 
and  the  Peon  by  my  cot.  "  She  ain't  gwine  ter 
say  a  word  ef  she  think  hit'll  discommerdate 
you;  but  de  chile's  e'en  erbout  breakin'  her 
heart  fer  de  country,  same  as  I  is." 


BIRD    CORNERS  21 

"Uncle  Milton,"  I  began  indignantly;  but 
the  old  man  brushed  my  words  aside. 

"You  en  Marse  John  fight  hit  out,  honey," 
he  said.  "Mek  'er  tell  de  trufe,  Marse  John. 
Hit's  you  en  her  fer  it  now;  Milton's  done 
his  bes'." 

He  turned  deliberately  and  walked  out  of 
the  yard. 

It  did  not  take  the  Peon  long  to  get  the 
facts,  to  answer  all  my  objections  as  to  the  in- 
convenience to  himself,  and  to  settle  finally  our 
immediate  return.  We  would  rebuild  Cedar- 
hurst  at  once. 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  cried,  "  not  Cedarhurst !  Let  us 
build  our  own  home,  all  sunshine  and  out- 
of-doors!  It  isn't  the  old  house  that  I  love; 
it  was  too  cold  and  stately  and  dark — such  an 
in-doors  kind  of  house.  It's  the  hills  I'm  home- 
sick for,  and  the  sky,  and  the  biggest  maple, 
and  the  pasture,  and  the  sycamores  down  by 
the  brook." 

"  But  we  can't  sleep  in  the  maple,"  objected 
the  Peon,  "  nor  eat  in  the  pasture  when  it  rains. 
There  must  be  a  house." 

"  Oh,  of  course.  But  let  it  be  our  house — 
not  Great-aunt  Virginia's.  You  may  really 


22    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

build  it  any  way  you  please  if  only  you  will 
have  porches  enough,  and  so  many  windows 
that  wherever  you  sit  you  can  lift  your  eyes 
and  look  right  out,  miles  and  miles  and  miles. 
And  I'd  like  all  the  rooms  to  have  a  southern 
exposure,  of  course,  on  account  of  the  breeze 
and  the  sun,  and  east  windows  for  winter  morn- 
ings, and  west  windows  for  the  sunsets.  I 
don't  care  about  the  rest." 

"I  insist  upon  bath-rooms  and  a  kitchen," 
said  the  Peon ;  "  mere  scenery  is  not  a  sufficient 
sanitary  basis  for  life.  But  what  shall  we  call 
it— Cedarhurst?" 

"  Oh,  no !  Just  a  plain,  every  day,  home-y 
name — something  that  belongs  to  us  and  the 
birds.  Why,  we're  Birds  ourselves,  Peon, 
dear.  Let's  be  sociable  and  call  it  Bird  Cor- 


ners." 


"  But  there  aren't  any  corners,"  said  the 
practical  Peon;  "the  place  lies  straight  along 
the  pike." 

That  is  a  man's  way.  He  thinks  he  must 
face  facts  and  shape  his  course  accordingly, 
poor  slave  to  the  visible  that  he  is.  But  a  wo- 
man conquers  facts  by  turning  her  back  upon 
them,  and  playing  they  are  something  else. 


BIRD    CORNERS  23 

"  The  birds  will  make  the  corners,"  I  ex- 
plained patiently.  "  Before  I've  been  putting 
out  crumbs  a  month  there'll  be  bird  pikes  cut- 
ting through  the  place  at  every  conceivable 
angle,  and  crossing  each  other  under  that  seven- 
trunked  maple  where  my  cot  will  be.  And  if 
that  won't  be  bird  corners,  what  will  ? " 

So  we  prepared  for  our  homing  flight.  Uncle 
Milton  went  out  at  once  to  trim  the  trees  and 
prune  the  shrubbery  and  vines;  and  the  occa- 
sional days  he  bestowed  on  us  in  town  were 
full  of  delight  for  me,  filled  as  they  were  with 
reports  of  progress  at  home.  For  it  was  home, 
before  dirt  had  been  broken  for  the  house ;  the 
city  dwelling  was  a  mere  temporary  shelter  . 

"  De  jonquils  out  home  is  showin'  up  fine,'* 
he  announced  one  morning  in  mid-February; 
"  hit's  time  to  sorter  stir  up  dese  yere  lazy  town 
flowers.  En  I'll  trim  de  trees,  too,  seein'  I'm 
'bout  done  wid  'em  out  home.  I  'spec  de  city 
folks  what'll  live  yere  atter  we-all  gone'll  want 
what  little  dab  er  trees  dey  got  in  dis  yard." 

He  looked  scornfully  at  the  back  yard,  gen- 
erous in  size,  after  the  fashion  of  our  Southern 
cities,  and  shaded  with  fine  old  trees.  But  a 
little  later,  high  in  the  hackberry,  his  love  of  all 


24    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

earth-rooted  things  swept  contempt  from  his 
heart,  and  his  dark  old  face  shone  with  happi- 
ness as  he  wielded  the  hatchet  with  rhythmic 
strokes. 

That  is  always  the  beginning  of  the  spring 
work — the  severance  of  death  from  life,  that 
life  may  rise  again,  even  out  of  death.  Where 
would  life  draw  this  dead  matter  next?  To 
darkness  first,  to  growth  most  surely,  and  per- 
chance, some  day,  to  wings.  And  the  dark  old 
man  with  the  happy  face  was  servitor  of  life — 
life  for  the  dead  as  for  the  living ;  for  death  is 
but  the  underside  of  life. 

We  went  home  early  in  May.  The  house 
would  not  be  finished  until  October;  but  out- 
doors was  all  ready  for  us,  and  we  could  not 
waste  the  summer  for  lack  of  a  house. 

'  You  know,"  I  argued  to  the  Peon,  "  we 
had  a  beautiful  time  in  the  mountains  last  sum- 
mer ;  and  we  slept  in  a  two-roomed  cottage  with 
only  weather-boarding  between  us  and  the 
trees  outside.  Why  can't  we  have  a  shed  with 
a  gasoline  stove,  and  a  couple  of  tents  to  live 
in?" 

So  we  had  them.  The  Peon  and  David  drove 


BIRD    CORNERS  25 

in  to  Chatterton  daily  and  took  the  train  for 
business  and  school;  and  I  fed  the  birds  and 
followed  Uncle  Milton,  and  drank  in  the 
changing  beauties  of  earth  and  sky.  And  all 
summer  we  watched  our  home  grow,  from  cel- 
lar to  roof-tree,  till  it  became  a  thing  com- 
plete, and  fitted  into  the  landscape  for  which 
it  was  designed. 

We  set  it  on  the  old  home's  hill,  which  over- 
looked the  countryside,  and  faced  it  toward 
the  sunrising.  The  dark  lines  of  cedars  which 
had  bordered  the  approach  to  the  old  house 
were  left  at  one  side,  and  the  road,  curving 
from  their  upper  end,  swept  into  full  sunshine 
and  passed  under  a  great  beech,  which  spread 
its  tiers  of  leaves  above  the  doorway.  It  is  an 
unpretentious  house,  rambling  about  pretty 
much  as  it  pleases  in  its  efforts  to  give  south- 
ern and  eastern  and  western  exposures  to  all 
the  rooms.  Porches  are  everywhere,  and  the 
windows  either  open  on  them,  like  doors,  or 
stop  a  little  above  the  floor  at  low,  cushioned 
seats,  which  tempt  one  to  sink  down  and  won- 
der once  again  at  the  beauty  of  this  fair  coun- 
try of  middle  Tennessee.  There  are  no  cur- 
tains at  the  windows,  nor  mats  of  vines  outside. 


26    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

But  up  the  widely-separated  columns  of  the 
porches  run  clematis  and  jasmines  which  cross 
the  great  openings  in  narrow  bands,  above 
and  below.  So  all  summer  the  fretwork  of 
green  leaves  frames  the  landscape,  a  perfect, 
yet  everchanging  picture  in  each  of  the  wide 
spaces.  The  east  end  of  the  living  room  is  of 
glass,  and  my  flowers  flourish  there  in  winter 
time.  In  my  own  room  the  bed  stands  in  a 
deep  recess  formed  all  of  windows  on  the  three 
sides.  A  low  seat  runs  under  them  within 
reach  of  the  bed.  All  through  the  dark,  sleep- 
less night  I  can  lie  there  and  watch  for  the 
first  paling  of  the  eastern  sky,  and  follow  the 
level  light  as  it  moves  softly  along  the  southern 
hills,  creating  the  shadows  which  make  the  light 
so  clear. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  some  of  the  kin  at 
Chatterton  thought  my  wits  astray  that  first 
summer,  and  the  Peon  but  a  soft-headed,  poor- 
spirited  creature  for  giving  way  to  my  whim- 
sies. Camping  out  was  not  as  popular  then  as 
it  is  now ;  and  the  older  members  of  the  family 
did  not  hesitate  to  commiserate  the  Peon  and 
David.  That  they  professed  to  enjoy  our  long 
picnic  only  added  to  the  heinousness  of  my 
folly. 


BIRD    CORNERS  27 

Cousin  Chadwell  Crackle  and  his  wife  were 
among  my  first  callers.  Cousin  Chad  is  always 
to  the  front  when  anything  new  crops  up  in  the 
family.  He  has  cried  the  sins  and  shortcom- 
ings of  the  whole  usual  order  so  long  that  even 
he  is  half  bored  with  them,  and  the  prospect  of 
something  new  to  criticise  whets  his  social  ap- 
petite to  the  keenest  possible  edge.  Cousin 
Jane  is  his  reflection  and  echo.  If  she  were 
not,  even  her  stolid  nerves  could  scarcely  have 
endured  his  painful  type  of  piety  without  dis- 
aster. 

They  drove  up  one  sunshiny  morning,  af- 
ter they  had  seen  the  Peon  and  David  pass  on 
their  way  to  town.  I  was  on  the  cot  under  the 
biggest  maple.  Its  seven  trunks  fall  apart 
like  long-stemmed  flowers  in  a  vase,  spreading 
into  a  great  green  tent  whose  leafy  curtains 
droop  in  a  circle  full  seventy  feet  across. 

The  blackbirds  were  my  principal  guests 
that  morning,  a  sanctimonious  crew  in  sleek 
black  coats,  solemn,  censorious,  and  self-satis- 
fied to  the  last  degree.  All  birds  which  walk 
instead  of  hopping  are  awkward-looking;  but 
none  are  as  preposterous  as  the  blackbirds,  be- 
cause none  of  them  put  on  such  sanctified  airs. 
As  they  moved  about  this  morning,  their  heads 


28    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

thrust  meekly  forward,  ducking  modestly  as 
they  stepped,  they  appeared  to  be  meditating 
on  their  neighbors'  sins.  But  they  had  their 
tribe's  keen  eye  for  the  main  chance,  and  it 
was  a  swift  bird  and  a  wary  one  which  secured 
a  big  crumb  with  these  feathered  Chadbands 
in  the  yard. 

I  looked  up  at  the  sound  of  wheels  and  near- 
ly choked  with  swallowing  my  laughter.  Cousin 
Chad  and  Cousin  Jane  did  look  so  sleek  and 
proper,  that  as  I  rose  to  meet  them  I  could  not 
refrain  from  throwing  some  extra  crumbs  on 
the  grass  for  possible  additions  to  my  break- 
fasting guests. 

They  descended  ponderously  and  looked  at 
me  with  the  apprehensive  scrutiny  one  might 
bestow  on  a  lunatic  who  is  liable  to  break  out 
immediately  in  a  fresh  place. 

"How  are  you,  Lyddy?"  inquired  Cousin 
Jane,  with  sepulchral  anxiety.  Cousin  Chad, 
busy  with  the  hitching-post,  listened  with  his 
back  as  well  as  with  his  ears.  They  both  know 
perfectly  that  I  have  always  been  Lil  to  every- 
one except  the  great-aunts,  and  that  Lyddy 
has  been  an  abomination  to  the  entire  family 
connection,  and  especially  to  me,  since  they 


BIRD    CORNERS  29 

first  invented  it  in  my  childhood.  That  is  why 
they  stick  to  it.  They  believe  in  chastenings,  do 
my  cousins,  the  Crackles — particularly  when 
they  are  the  chasteners. 

"  I'm  perfectly  well,"  I  answered,  with  add- 
ed emphasis  to  my  usual  formula.  "  Come 
and  sit  down.  There's  no  need  to  ask  how  you 
and  Cousin  Chad  are ;  you  look  the  picture  of 
health." 

"Appearances  don't  do  to  go  by,  Lyddy," 
she  answered  solemnly,  sinking  ponderously 
on  a  creaking  campstool.  "  Chadwell's  been 
havin*  sciatica,  and  I've  stayed  awake  nights 
with  him  till  I'm  just  about  worn  out.  But 
I've  never  made  my  afflictions  an  excuse  for 
shirkin'  my  duty.  We  came  over  to  say  that 
as  you  seem  to  be  without  a  roof  over  your 
heads  we'd  take  you  to  board  till  your  house  is 
finished — if  it  ever  is." 

She  glanced  contempuously  at  the  amor- 
phous piles  of  building  material  just  beyond 
us. 

"  You  can  have  the  second  spare  bedroom 
upstairs,"  put  in  Cousin  Chad.  "  It's  more  to 
my  interest  to  put  you  in  the  front  one;  but 
livin'  comes  high  any  way  you  take  it,  and  I 


30    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

want  to  consider  you.  I  reckon  John  ain't  able 
to  spend  much,  with  all  this  building  on  hand. 
The  back  room's  small,  but  you  three  can  make 
out  in  it.  If  you  want  the  other,  of  course  it 
will  cost  more.  You  can  come  over  this  even- 
ing after  John  gets  home,  and  he  and  I  can 
settle  the  terms  after  supper." 

I  kept  my  face  quite  straight,  and  made  a 
handsome  contribution  to  current  fiction. 

"  It's  so  kind  of  you.  John  will  appreciate 
it  as  much  as  I.  But  we  really  enjoy  camping, 
and  would  not  give  it  up  even  for  those  lovely 
rooms  of  yours,  Cousin  Chad.  Thank  you  so 
much." 

Cousin  Jane's  rubicund  complexion  assumed 
a  purplish  hue. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  kill  that  delicate  child  of 
Henry  Bird's,  making  him  sleep  out  in  the 
weather  all  summer?  "  she  demanded. 

"  No,"  I  said,  considering;  "  I  don't  intend 
to  kill  him,  exactly.  And  he  isn't  at  all  deli- 
cate." 

"  Well,  he  will  be  by  the  time  you  get 
through  with  him — if  he  ain't  dead,"  broke  in 
Cousin  Chad.  "  Lyddy,  it's  my  duty  to  speak 
plainly,  and  I'll  not  shirk  it.  Letitia  spoiled 


BIRD    CORNERS  31 

you  from  the  time  you  were  born,  and  John 
Bird  seems  bent  on  keeping  it  up.  David  will 
pay  the  penalty  for  it.  We  do  a  very  different 
part  by  the  orphan  the  Lord  made  it  our  duty 
to  take  charge  of,  I  can  assure  you.  Caroline 
Wrenn's  health  is  taken  care  of,  with  a  view 
to  her  future  usefulness  as  a  Christian.  But 
of  course  you'll  stick  to  your  own  ways. — Well, 
I've  warned  you :  my  consicence  is  clear.  Come, 
Jane:  we'd  better  be  going." 

"  I'm  glad  your  conscience  is  clear,  Cousin 
Chad.  I  know  that's  a  comfort  to  you,  if  I'm 
not.  But  we  can  be  good  friends,  can't  we, 
even  though  our  ideas  are  different?  " 

"  I  shall  not  turn  my  back  upon  you  if 
you're  in  trouble,  Lyddy,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  he  answered.  "  I  hope  I  know  my 
duty  better  than  that.  But  when  you  want 
help  again  you  must  ask  for  it.  I  don't  intend 
to  offer  it." 

"  That's  a  bargain,  then,"  I  said ;  "  and  we 
must  both  remember  it." 

Cousin  Jane  looked  at  me  sharply,  but  Cous- 
in Chad  was  already  heaving  her  into  the  bug- 
gy, and  she  turned  to  get  a  good  grip  on  the 
side.  The  vehicle  creaked  as  she  settled  in  it, 


32    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

and  groaned  when  Cousin  Chad  sank  beside 
her. 

"Good-bye,  Lyddy,"  she  said.  "We've 
done  our  best.  I  hope  you  won't  regret  it." 

This  quite  upset  me,  and  after  the  cedars 
hid  them  I  lay  laughing  until  the  thought  of 
poor  little  Caro  suddenly  sobered  me.  What 
were  they  doing  to  Billy's  child?  I  must 
make  friends  with  Cousin  Jane,  somehow,  and 
entice  the  little  thing  over  to  Bird  Corners  as 
much  as  possible. 

There  was  no  one  else  whom  our  erratic  man- 
ner of  life  really  scandalized,  except  Cousin 
Jason  Blue;  and  he,  as  he  took  occasion  to 
tell  me  when  he  met  me  out  driving  one  day 
with  Caro,  never  made  a  fool  of  himself  like 
Chad  Grackle  by  meddling.  If  a  woman 
wanted  to  follow  her  nature  and  behave  like 
a  lunatic,  and  her  husband  chose  to  allow  it, 
it  was  none  of  his  business;  so  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  passed  on. 

Cousin  Jason  and  the  Grackles  are  the  only 
kin  I  have  in  all  Chatterton  whose  kinship  I 
would  discount  if  I  could ;  but  there  is  no  deny- 
ing they  belong  in  the  family.  Cousin  Chad's 
father  was  my  grandmother's  third  half-cousin 


BIRD    CORNERS  33 

on  my  father's  side ;  and  Cousin  Jason's  moth- 
er was  Cousin  Lysander  Hilliard's  step- 
daughter by  his  second  marriage:  there  could 
scarcely  be  anything  plainer  than  that. 

And  if  Cousin  Jason  had  his  drawbacks, 
there  are  none  about  his  half-sister,  Grace,  fif- 
teen years  his  junior,  and,  except  Ella,  the 
dearest  friend  I  have.  She  married  George 
Wood  soon  after  I  married  the  Peon,  and 
they  have  a  daughter,  Milly,  about  the  age  of 
Caro  Wrenn. 

David  took  kindly  to  country  life,  and  to 
his  numerous  cousins-by-marriage.  There 
were  plenty  of  boys  among  them ;  and  though 
at  first  they  resented  David's  city  ways,  their 
respect  for  him  grew  immensly  when  they 
found  how  far  he  could  bat  a  ball;  and  after 
he  had  whipped  Bob  White  in  single  combat 
he  was  admitted  to  Chatterton  boydom  as  a 
comrade  in  full  fellowship.  There  was  no 
particular  reason  for  his  fighting  Bob,  so  far 
as  we  dull  grown-ups  could  discover,  except 
that  Bob  was  the  leader  of  his  set,  and  a  fight 
was  considered  the  necessary  initiation  to  mem- 
bership. As  soon  as  this  was  made  clear  to 
him,  David  had  painstakingly  trodden  on  Bob's 


34    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

toes,  and  the  preliminaries  were  arranged  at 
once.  The  boys  were  excellent  friends,  before 
and  afterward;  and  the  Peon  would  not  allow 
me  to  discuss  the  matter  with  David.  They 
talked  it  out  in  private,  and  reached  some 
amicable  male  conclusion  of  their  own. 

Of  the  girl  cousins  David  was  loftily  toler- 
ant, excepting  Caro  Wrenn.  She  was  five 
years  old  the  spring  we  came  back  to  the 
country,  when  David  was  half -past  nine.  Her 
mother  had  died  when  she  was  born,  and  her 
father,  Billy  Wrenn,  had  gone  to  Colorado 
three  years  afterward,  to  die  there  of  con- 
sumption. He  made  Cousin  Chad  Caro's 
guardian  before  he  died,  knowing,  as  we  all 
did,  Cousin  Chad's  remarkable  ability  in  reap- 
ing financial  harvests  from  even  the  smallest 
investments;  but  he  left  the  child  herself  with 
her  mother's  sister,  Sally  Martin,  never  dream- 
ing that  death  would  again  bereave  the  little 
creature  of  a  mother's  love.  Sally  died,  quite 
suddenly,  less  than  a  year  after  Billy;  and 
Cousin  Chad  and  Cousin  Jane,  intent,  as  usual, 
on  doing  their  impeccable  duty,  assumed  sole 
care  of  the  little  heiress,  and  installed  her  in 
their  own  childless  and  virtuous  home. 


BIRD    CORNERS  35 

A  more  incongruous  setting  for  her  could 
scarcely  have  been  found.  She  was  a  tiny  crea- 
ture, with  rose-leaf  skin,  great  hazel  eyes,  a 
mop  of  red-brown  curls,  and  a  mouth  where 
laughter  bubbled  all  day  long.  Quick  and  bird- 
like  in  all  her  movements,  she  flitted  in  and 
out  of  the  most  unexpected  recesses  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  with  endless  flutterings  of 
hands  and  skirts  and  sweet  gurglings  of  sup- 
pressed laughter.  Almost  from  her  cradle  she 
sang — queer  little  soft  croonings  which  slipped 
into  tunes  before  she  could  speak  their  words. 
Cousin  Jane  scarcely  knew  what  to  make  of 
her,  and  was  torn  between  a  sincere  desire  to  do 
her  Spartanly-Christian  duty  by  her,  and  her 
solemn  puzzlement  over  what  she  considered 
the  child's  combination  of  depravity  and  charm. 
Even  Cousin  Jane  could  not  be  very  severe 
with  her ;  but  she  had  an  uneasy  sense  of  spoil- 
ing her  every  time  she  f orebore  the  rod,  so  that 
I  found  her  more  than  willing  to  turn  the  child 
over  to  me  for  the  greater  part  of  the  time. 

This  arrangement  gave  my  revered  relative 
ample  warrant  for  looking  closely  into  my 
household  affairs  and  reproving  me  for  every- 
thing she  did  and  didn't  discover;  it  was  her 


86    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

duty  to  know  all  about  a  place  where  dear 
Caroline  spent  so  much  of  her  time.  And  when 
Caro  departed  from  Cousin  Jane's  ideals,  as 
she  did  with  every  movement  of  body  and 
mind,  it  was  a  great  relief  to  my  pious  cousin  to 
be  able  publicly  to  disavow  all  responsibility 
for  the  child's  shortcomings.  What,  as  she 
constantly  inquired,  could  one  expect  of  Caro- 
line when  that  scatter-brained  Lyddy  would 
persist  in  encouraging  the  child  in  her  flighti- 
ness?  She  published  abroad  her  own  power- 
lessness  to  control  either  Caro  or  the  situation, 
and  openly  washed  her  hands  of  the  conse- 
quences. 

Caro  and  I  bore  up  as  best  we  could,  and  the 
Peon  and  David  stood  by  us  nobly.  David, 
indeed,  was  ready  to  fight  his  idol's  battles  with 
Cousin  Jane  herself.  In  fact,  he  grew  up  with 
a  lack  of  respect  for  that  excellent  lady  which 
tempted  her  to  assume  the  role  of  a  prophet, 
in  which  capacity  she  dwelt  at  large  on  the 
penitentiary  as  David's  ultimate  place  of  resi- 
dence. Caro  always  responded  to  these  prog- 
nostications that,  if  Davy  went  to  the  penim- 
tentium,  she  would  go,  too,  as  soon  as  she  was 
big  enough,  and  keep  house  for  him,  and  make 
the  cook  give  them  ice-cream  every  day  that 
came.  And  so  the  matter  rested. 


Ill 

IN  MAKE-BELIEVE 

IT  is  four  years  since  I  wrote  those  last 
words.  Not  long  after,  Caro  went  away  to 
school.  David  went  North  to  college  that  year, 
and  was  only  coming  home  for  the  regular 
holidays.  He  still  held  to  his  boyhood  prefer- 
ence, and  was  determined  to  be  a  scientific 
farmer :  and  since  the  Peon  and  I  were  to  have 
him  with  us  always,  we  wanted  him  to  have  a 
few  years  quite  away  from  us  in  which  to  make 
his  own  adjustments  to  life.  So  they  left  us 
the  same  week,  David  with  all  a  boy's  love  to 
hold  him  back,  and  a  young  man's  eagerness  to 
urge  him  away ;  and  Caro  in  as  nearly  easterly 
weather  as  her  sunny  nature  ever  experienced. 

It  was  Cousin  Jane  who  first  decided  on 
Caro's  banishment.  For  the  sake  of  her  own 
peace  of  mind  she  had  of  late  years  resigned 
the  child  almost  entirely  to  me ;  but  every  now 

37 


38    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

and  then  she  had  what  Caro  called  a  "  qualm 
spell."  During  these  painful  periods  Caro  re- 
sided with  the  Grackles,  strictly,  not  even  com- 
ing over  to  take  lunch  with  me.  She  arose  at 
five  and  extinguished  her  light  at  nine;  and 
pinned  on  the  wall  beside  her  bureau,  in  Cousin 
Jane's  firm  handwriting,  was  a  schedule  of  use- 
ful occupations  for  each  of  the  intervening  six- 
teen hours. 

She  had  so  much  time  for  devotions,  so  much 
for  meals,  so  much  for  school,  for  study,  for 
"  domestic  occupations,"  for  "  improving  and 
useful  reading,"  and  for  "  practical  sewing." 
Cousin  Jane  never  allowed  precious  time 
wasted  on  fancy  work;  and  if  she  thought  it 
was  all  like  the  awful  things  she  had  in  her 
parlor  I  don't  in  the  least  blame  her  for  think- 
ing it  wicked. 

However,  Caro's  time  was  laid  out  for  her 
as  exactly  as  the  squares  on  a  checker-board. 
She  fed  the  chickens,  argued  with  the  old  bid- 
dies who  wanted  to  "  set "  in  the  wrong  place, 
and  wheedled  the  arrogant  old  Buff  Orping- 
ton, who  ruled  the  hens  and  Cousin  Jane  with 
ease  and  contempt,  into  doing  whatever  she 
wanted  of  him.  She  made  butter  that  drew 


IN    MAKE-BELIEVE  39 

near-smiles  to  Cousin  Jane's  stiff  lips,  and 
evolved  cakes  that  called  forth  lectures  to 
Cousin  Chad  on  the  sin  of  gluttony.  She 
sewed,  without  a  murmur,  or  a  particle  of  trim- 
ming, undergarments  of  good,  reliable,  ever- 
wearing  domestic.  She  was  always  fore- 
sighted  enough  to  make  ample  allowance  for 
their  shrinking  when  washed ;  whereby  she  both 
pleased  Cousin  Jane  and  insured  an  excellent 
fit  for  little  black  Josie  when  she  returned  to 
us  with  a  halo  of  virtue  above  her  red-brown 
curls.  She  read  history  till  she  could  put  me 
to  the  blush.  She  washed  the  best  tea-cups  and 
the  Persian  cat.  She  dusted  the  parlor  daily. 
And  from  her  early  childhood  she  made  irre- 
proachable jam. 

It  really  was  excellent  training  for  her; 
thorough  good  discipline,  as  Cousin  Jane  would 
say;  especially  as  it  was  interspersed  with 
"  spells  of  Bird-Cornering,"  during  which  she 
sojourned  with  the  Peon  and  me.  For  the 
period  of  discipline  always  followed  an  accus- 
tomed round.  It  began  with  a  Cousin  Jane  all 
severity,  lynx-eyed  to  drag  poor  Caro's  de- 
linquencies to  light  and  overcome  them  by  un- 
sparing criticism.  But  Caro  has  always  made 


play  of  everything,  finding  by  the  talisman  of 
her  own  happy  heart  the  hidden  beauty,  or 
laughter,  of  the  ugliest  and  solemnest  things. 
She  did  all  Cousin  Jane  found  for  her  to 
do — which  is  saying  a  good  deal — not  only 
cheerfully,  but  with  whole-souled  delight,  as  if 
it  were  her  very  meat  and  drink.  Doing  it 
that  way,  she  did  it  beyond  criticism;  and 
Cousin  Jane  would  begin  to  relax,  unwillingly, 
unable  to  find  a  flaw,  yet  with  an  uneasy  feel- 
ing that  something  must  be  wrong,  or  Caro 
couldn't  possibly  be  enjoying  herself  so  much. 
When  she  set  herself  to  mortify  Caro's  girlish 
vanity  the  child  met  her  more  than  half-way. 
She  did  her  best  to  "  slick  "  her  curls,  and  don- 
ned shapeless  gingham  aprons  as  joyously  as 
though  they  were  made  of  jewels  and  lace. 
Cousin  Jane  would  find  herself  being  molli- 
fied to  the  point  of  indulgence  in  spite  of  her- 
self ;  and  about  that  time  Caro  would  come  fly- 
ing into  the  yard  at  Bird  Corners  and  drop 
fluttering  beside  me,  her  eyes  shining  with  the 
pure  joy  of  living  and  the  love  of  living  things. 
"  I'm  back  again,  Mammy  Lil,"  she  would 
laugh,  whirling  about  on  one  toe.  "  Cousin 
Jane  hasn't  scolded  me  for  four  days,  and  yes- 


IN    MAKE-BELIEVE  41 

terday  she  almost  patted  my  head ;  so  I  knew 
she  thought  I'd  had  training  enough  for  the 
present,  and  I'd  be  coming  back  home  in  a  jiffy. 
They're  so  good  to  me  in  their  funny  way  I'm 
most  ashamed  to  be  glad  to  come  home  to  you — 
but  I  am,  all  the  same.  Where's  Josie?  I've 
made  three  new  petticoats  and  a  night  gown 
for  her,  out  of  muslin  strong  enough  to  climb 
trees." 

The  truth  was  that  when  Caro  came  back  to 
me  it  was  because  Cousin  Jane  had  detected  in 
her  own  soul  symptoms  of  the  child's  being 
made  an  idol :  she  had  to  get  rid  of  her  to  re- 
cover her  own  moral  poise.  But  she  still  in- 
tended to  do  her  full  duty  by  her :  so  when  Caro 
was  fifteen  she  was  sent  to  boarding  school, 
to  remain  at  least  five  years.  By  that  time 
Cousin  Jane  hoped  to  have  re-established  her 
own  imperturbability  without  unduly  exposing 
her  charge  to  the  dangerous  influences  of  Bird 
Corners. 

We  had  a  battle  royal  concerning  the  school 
she  should  go  to,  and  to  this  day  Cousin  Jane 
thinks  she  won.  She  really  has  no  more  idea 
about  schools  than  a  chinquapin  worm,  living 
fat  and  contented  in  its  own  sufficient  little 


42    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

world;  and  I  knew  she'd  be  for  sending  the 
child  to  some  fifth-rate  country  "  college " 
where  she'd  be  taught  poor  music  and  worse 
French,  and  be  worked  to  death  learning  things 
the  way  they  aren't.  So  I  wrote,  ostenta- 
tiously, for  the  catalogue  of  one  of  the  most  ex- 
clusive, nonsensical,  and  extravagant  "finish- 
ing schools  " ;  and  privately  ordered  sent  to 
Cousin  Jane  one  from  the  school  I  wished  Caro 
to  attend.  It  was  a  sensible  place  where  she'd 
be  taken  care  of,  and  given  a  chance  to  grow 
up  to  the  best  of  herself  in  body  and  mind.  I 
plead  for  the  finishing  school,  and  sniffed  dil- 
igently at  the  other,  even  advocating  the 
dreaded  "  college  "  as  preferable ;  whereby  I 
had  the  comfort  of  having  Caro  sent  where  I 
wanted  her,  with  Cousin  Jane's  mind  so 
definitely  set  on  keeping  her  there  that  I 
knew  her  education  was  provided  for. 

Caro  rebelled  against  going.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  did  not  want  to  please  us. 

"  You're  not  well  enough  to  do  without  me 
and  David,  too,  Mammy  Lil,"  she  insisted; 
"it's  just  a  pretense  that  you  don't  need  me; 
and  I  don't  care  whether  I'm  educated  or  not." 

She  yielded  to  the  inevitable  between  tears 
and  laughter. 


IN    MAKE-BELIEVE  43 

"  Anyway,"  she  reflected,  "  there's  Make- 
Believe  left:  you'll  never  get  rid  of  me  there, 
will  you?  I'll  come  there  every  day  of  the 
world,  and  David,  too :  and  ten  times  a  day  if 
you  want  me." 

It  was  a  genuine  relief  to  have  her  go ;  it  was 
becoming  most  difficult  to  blind  her  bright 
eyes  to  my  illness.  It  was  much  simpler  to 
keep  up  appearances  with  the  Peon,  who  left 
home  early  and  returned  late,  and  who  was 
often  called  away  for  days  together.  If  I 
sat  up  as  usual  when  he  was  in  the  house  it 
was  becoming  necessary  to  lie  quite  still  all 
day. 

For  weeks  after  the  children  left  I  enjoyed 
being  alone,  and  the  freedom  from  effort  which 
it  brought.  But  as  the  winter  wore  on,  the  lone- 
liness proved  a  lure  to  introspection  and  self- 
pity — those  quicksands  of  despair  which  en- 
circle the  country  of  enforced  idleness ;  and  as 
I  lay  under  my  windows  or  beneath  the  trees 
I  began,  for  pleasure  and  companionship,  to 
write  the  story  of  our  happy  life  and  of  the 
children's  growing  up.  But  the  note-book 
proved  desperately  heavy,  and  the  few  pages 
I  filled  took  weeks  instead  of  days ;  until  at  last 
I  ceased  the  effort  until  I  should  be  stronger, 


44    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

as  I  had  ceased  so  many  other  things  in  this 
journeying  into  the  Land  of  Idleness. 

I  made  a  new  acquaintance  that  winter — a 
wretched  little  blue  devil  to  whom  I  gave  the 
name  of  Grumpy,  and  with  whom  I  battled 
from  morning  till  night,  and  especially  from 
night  till  morning.  It  is  not  pain  that  blue 
devils  thrive  on — I  had  proved  that  all  these 
many  years ;  it  is  idleness  that  gives  them  their 
chance  for  mischief — the  helpless  idleness  of  ut- 
ter exhaustion,  when  one's  thoughts  hang  va- 
cant, and  body  nor  mind  can  longer  force  its 
way  past  the  wall  of  pain  to  move,  however 
slowly,  in  the  beautiful  outside  world  of  human 
effort  and  achievement. 

So  Grumpy  came  to  Bird  Corners.  Satan 
himself  knows  no  self-respecting  devil  would 
have  stayed  on  the  premises  after  the  way  I 
treated  the  creature;  but  blue  devils  respect 
neither  themselves  nor  anybody  else.  An  hour 
after  I  had  flung  him  out  by  the  heels  he  would 
bob  up  by  the  sofa  in  the  finest  fettle  imagin- 
able, grinning  at  my  exhaustion  from  our  late 
encounter.  The  most  I  ever  could  be  sure  of 
doing  was  keeping  him  invisible  to  every  one 
else;  but  he  made  up  for  that  in  the  nights, 


IN    MAKE-BELIEVE  45 

Still,  one  adjusts  one's  self  to  the  inevitable  in 
time ;  and  blue  devils  are  all  in  the  day's  work, 
I  suppose,  like  the  dentist  or  a  cold  in  one's 
head.  One  gets  through  with  the  visitation 
somehow,  and  laughs  afterward  because,  for 
the  time,  at  least,  it  is  over. 

When  the  children  came  home  in  the  sum- 
mer there  was  trouble,  of  course.  Doctors 
came  and  went,  though  I  had  privately  done 
my  full  duty  by  them  long  before;  and  I 
swallowed  a  deal  of  nasty  stuff  which  did  abso- 
lutely no  good,  except  that  it  soothed  the  feel- 
ings of  the  family. 

By  the  end  of  the  summer  David  was  insist- 
ing on  something  radical;  and  when  he  went 
back  to  college  he  took  me  with  him,  and  de- 
posited me  in  a  northern  sanitarium,  where  I 
was  to  lie  flat  on  my  back  three  months,  and 
be  made  over  as  good  as  new. 

This  was  not  only  radical,  but  revolutionary. 
Chatterton  had  never  before  furnished  an  in- 
mate for  a  sanitarium.  The  word,  indeed,  was 
commonly  understood  as  a  polite  euphemism 
for  a  lunatic  asylum.  The  sentiments  of  the 
kin  ranged  all  the  way  from  Grace  Wood's 
anxious  hopefulness  to  Cousin  Jane's  frank 


46    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

curiosity  concerning  what  new  kind  of  crazi- 
ness  Lyddy  had  been  up  to  now,  to  make  John 
Bird  feel  like  she  had  to  be  shut  up  in  a  private 
rnad-house.  She  took  my  part,  however,  so 
far  as  to  say,  both  to  my  face  and  behind  my 
back,  that  I  wasn't  a  mite  crazier  than  I'd 
been  all  my  life ;  and  if  folks  could  get  along 
with  me  this  long  it  did  look  like  a  pity  they 
couldn't  put  up  with  me  a  while  longer,  and 
save  disgracing  the  family.  There  was  nothing 
the  matter  with  me,  Cousin  Jane  opined,  be- 
yond being  spoiled  to  death,  and  lazy;  and,, 
anyway,  it  was  flying  in  the  face  of  Provi- 
dence to  go  on  living  if  your  time  had  come 
to  die. 

As  to  going  North,  she  never  did  believe  in 
wasting  money  on  conceited  Yankee  doctors 
when  there  were  so  many  struggling  physicians 
at  home,  to  say  nothing  of  the  heathen  in 
foreign  lands  who  were  dropping  into  hell-fire 
so  many  a  minute  for  lack  of  any  kind  of  doc- 
tors, good  or  bad,  to  keep  them  alive  until 
the  missionaries  could  get  to  them. 

"  But  it's  no  use  preachin'  to  selfish  ears," 
she  concluded,  drawing  her  heavy  silk  wrap 
about  her  ample  shoulders  and  settling  her  bon- 


IN    MAKE-BELIEVE  47 

net  strings.    "  I've  been  wastin'  my  breath,  of 


course." 


It  seemed  a  pity  that  she  should,  whether 
from  my  point  of  view  or  her  own ;  so  I  smiled 
as  sympathetically  as  I  could,  and  offered  my 
cheek  for  her  farewell  salute.  She  bestowed  it 
impressively. 

"  Well,  goodbye,  Lyddy.  I  suppose  I  won't 
see  you  again  in  this  life ;  an'  in  the  other  one 
failin'  wits  won't  trouble  us,  I  trust.  I  want 
you  to  know  I  don't  hold  any  of  your  foolish- 
ness against  you,  child :  I  reckon  you  never  did 
have  sense  like  the  rest  of  us." 

She  went  out  with  her  ponderous,  firm  tread, 
and  Caro  flitted  to  my  side,  her  head  thrown 
up,  ruffling  like  an  angry  wren. 

"  Mammy  Lil,  its  a  shame  you  made  me 
promise  to  be  good !  Do  let  me  run  after  her 

and "  She  caught  my  eye  and  broke  into 

bubbling  laughter,  dropping  her  head  on  my 
pillows  and  snuggling  her  little  nose  under  my 
chin. 

"  Of  course  it's  funny,"  she  admitted  pres- 
ently; "  and  if  you  will  laugh,  I  have  to.  But 
I  can't  see  how  she  can  be  so  wooden-headed 
and  yet  be  alive." 


48    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

"  She  isn't  alive  very  much,  poor  soul ! "  I 
answered,  soberly  enough.  "  I  don't  think 
anybody  really  lives  except  so  far  as  they  un- 
derstand life — and  people.  When  you  think 
of  it  in  that  way,  Cousin  Jane  has  lived  in  a 
closer  confinement  all  her  life  than  I'll  be  when 
I  get  to  the  asylum." 

That  was  three  years  ago,  and  more,  and  I 
am  here  at  the  sanitarium  yet,  though  the  Peon 
is  coming  to  take  me  home  next  month.  It  was 
I  who  set  the  limit  of  my  stay  at  three  months, 
when  I  came;  I  was  determined  to  be  well  by 
that  time.  I  even  had  Caro  put  my  note-book 
in  my  trunk,  because  I  expected  to  fill  it  before 
I  came  back.  That  is  why  I  am  writing  this 
chapter,  a  few  lines  at  a  time,  on  good  days: 
I  am  determined  to  do  something  that  I  plan- 
ned doing,  before  I  go  back. 

It  would  take  more  note-books  than  my 
trunk  could  hold  to  tell  the  story  of  the  kind- 
ness shown  me  here ;  of  the  patience,  skill,  and 
resourcefulness  which  have  fought  for  me  when 
I  could  no  longer  fight  for  myself.  And  it 
is  good  to  be  in  a  place  like  this  for  awhile, 
to  learn  what  human  nature  is  capable  of  un- 


IN   MAKE-BELIEVE  49 

der  racking,  tearing  strain.  The  courage  one 
finds,  the  high-hearted  endurance  of  plain,  or- 
dinary people,  the  brave  good  cheer  of  men 
and  women  whose  pain-lined  faces  choke  one's 
throat  with  tears!  I  have  seen  these  things 
so  often  these  last  eighteen  months — or  at  least 
in  so  much  of  them  as  I  could  be  carried,  lying 
flat  in  a  wheeled  chair,  out  on  one  of  the  bal- 
conies, where  I  could  catch  glimpses  of  the 
struggles  that  were  going  on  around  me. 

It  is  not  all  loss,  this  suffering.  Sickness 
does  bring  out  hidden  ugliness  and  weakness, 
for  it  searches  soul  and  body  to  the  inmost 
core.  But  there  is  more  good  hidden  than 
there  is  evil ;  and  in  the  stress  of  suffering  the 
most  ordinary  people  blossom  into  a  loveliness 
of  soul  which  reveals  them  as  of  the  company 
of  the  saints.  Life  is  so  narrow  and  common- 
place to  the  average  experience  that  it  can 
only  make  a  narrow  and  common  place  appeal. 
"  The  trivial  round,  the  common  task "  has, 
for  so  many,  no  large  connections;  and  the 
depths  of  their  natures  are  never  stirred  until 
their  every-day  world  lies  in  ruins  about  them, 
and  to  live  at  all  they  must  discover  new  re- 
sources in 


50    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

" — that  true  world  within  the  world  we  see," 

and  gain  a  true  perspective  and  a  new  horizon. 

And  the  funny  folk  in  a  place  like  this — 
they  would  fill  volumes,  too!  Of  course  they 
are  pitiful;  but  I  never  could  see  the  harm  of 
laughter  over  pitifulness,  if  only  one  doesn't 
laugh  unkindly.  For  some  of  them  never  find 
new  resources.  Disaster  leads  them,  not  to 
discovery,  but  to  an  impasse;  and  they  revenge 
themselves  on  the  inexplicable  by  endless  in- 
congruities of  thought  and  action. 

The  patient  who  really  helped  me  most  was 
a  dear  old  lady  who,  though  forbidden,  like 
the  rest,  to  talk  to  me,  felt  it  her  heaven-sent 
mission  to  cheer  me  up.  Whenever  she  saw 
me  deposited  on  the  porch  she  flew  out,  wring- 
ing her  hands  in  sympathy,  and  exclaiming, 
"Oh,  what  is  life  without  health! "  It  really 
is  a  good  deal  when  you  come  to  think  of  it; 
and  the  old  lady's  reiterations  elicited  a  string 
of  mental  replies  as  long  as  from  western  New 
York  to  Bird  Corners,  and  kept  me  in  ammu- 
nition for  Grumpy. 

For  Grumpy  has  been  at  this  sanitarium 
for  three  years  and  seven  weeks.  But  the 
Peon  has  been  here,  too,  and  David — and  Cou- 


IN    MAKE-BELIEVE  51 

sin  Jane!  Caro  I  have  not  seen  in  all  these 
j^ears:  Cousin  Jane  doesn't  consider  it  decent 
for  a  young  girl  to  be  allowed  in  a  place  where 
women  may  be  seen  in  the  halls  in  kimonos, 
and  men  are  allowed  to  sit  in  wheeled  chairs  on 
the  balconies,  shamelessly  clad  in  their  bath 
robes,  with  heaven  knows  what  garments,  or 
lack  of  garments,  underneath.  Caro  should 
not  set  foot  in  the  place;  and  no  entreaties 
could  move  her.  But  Caro  has  written,  every 
week  of  the  world;  and,  to  make  up  for  my 
not  having  her,  Cousin  Jane  paid  me  a  visit 
herself.  She  felt  it  her  duty,  she  said,  to  find 
out  what  kind  of  a  place  it  was  that  John  Bird 
had  shut  Lyddy  up  in;  and  if  the  rest  of  the 
family  wouldn't  look  after  me,  she  would.  So 
she  came,  suspicious  and  inquisitorial,  and 
melted  visibly  under  the  tactful  suavity  of  the 
physician  in  charge, — "  the  Head,"  as  we  called 
him.  She  even  began  to  help  him,  ministering 
to  the  patients  after  a  fashion  all  her  own. 
She  had  it  out  with  one  of  them,  a  metaphysical 
lady,  a  very  unorthodox  person,  and  left  her 
in  a  state  of  collapse.  In  no  uncertain  tones 
she  expressed  her  views  on  hen-pecking  to  an- 
other, an  elderly  lady  with  a  liver  and  a  youth- 


WEST  HOLLYWOOD  WOMANS  CLUfc 


52    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

ful  husband.  I  don't  know  what  would  have 
happened  further  if  I  had  not  been  inspired 
to  beguile  her  into  going  down  into  the  treat- 
ment rooms  for  a  Turkish  bath.  She  came  up 
purple  with  wrath,  and  began  to  pack  her 
trunk,  declaring  that  she  washed  her  hands  of 
the  place  forever ;  and  if  I  wanted  to  stay  there 
and  have  my  morals  corrupted,  I  could ;  but  for 
her  part  she  was  going  back  to  her  own  bath- 
tub, and  the  religion  she  was  brought  up  in. 
And  go  she  did,  that  night. 

For  myself,these  three  years  must  remain 
in  the  silence  in  which  they  have  been  spent. 
The  pain  I  wish  to  forget;  today's  pain  is 
enough.  And  the  helplessness  and  idleness,  so 
much  worse  than  the  pain — that  too,  I  would 
shut  from  my  memory.  But  the  kindness 
which  has  filled  these  years — that  is  an  eternal 
possession.  And  the  loveliness  of  this  little  val- 
ley is  mine  always,  cut  off  as  it  is  in  my 
thoughts  as  a  place  apart  from  all  my  real 
world  and  life,  shut  in  and  hidden  by  its  beau- 
tiful circling  hills.  I  have  called  it  the  En- 
chanted Valley,  because  it  seemed  sometimes  as 
if  some  spell  had  caught  and  bound  me  to  it 


IN   MAKE-BELIEVE  53 

forever.  But  now  that  I  am  to  go  free  at  last 
I  can  forget  all  that,  and  remember  only  the 
enchantment  of  its  beauty,  and  the  kindness  of 
those  who  dwell  in  it.  The  Land  of  Make- 
Believe,  too,  is  as  near  me  as  under  the  trees 
at  home.  I  have  had  beautiful  times  in  Make- 
Believe,  day  and  night,  and  especially  at  night. 
I  have  seen  Caro  there,  you  may  be  sure!  I 
made  a  jingle  about  it  not  long  ago  which  tells 
the  real  story  of  these  long  years  better  than 
anything  else  I  could  write. 

IN  MAKE-BELIEVE. 

Oh,  beautiful  country   of  Make-Believe, 

Where  in  childhood  I  learned  to  play! 
I'm  not  bound  fast  to  a  bed — not  I! 
Nor  racked  "with  pain  till  I  want  to  cry. 

I'm  over  the  hills  and  away! 

Poor  body  that  lies  here  and  cannot  sleep, 

I'm   sorry    to   leave   you   so; 
But  the  children  are  calling  from  far  away; 
In    Make-Believe,    where    it's    time    to    play. 

And  you  can't  walk,  you  know. 

I  fly  on  the  wings  of  thought,  myself, 

While  the  wind  shrieks  behind  me  "  Wait!  " 


54    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

For    he    never   can   fly    as   fast    as    thought, 
And  he  howls  because  he  thinks  he  ought; — 
But  here  I  am  at  the  gate. 

No  narrow,  smothering  walls  for  me, 

Nor  life  shut  in  from  the  sky, 
When   Make-Believe    is    all    out-doors, 
With   beautiful  grass  instead  of  floors, 

And  to  reach  it  one  needs  but  try. 

There  is  ice  back  there;  but  in  Make-Believe 

There's  just  what  you  happen  to  choose: 
Soft  spring-time  colors  with  silver  sheen, 
Or   cool   wood-reaches    of   summer   green, 
Or  the  sparkle  of  autumn  dews. 

Oh,  the  woodland  rambles  in  Make-Believe! 

The  fields  where  daisies  grow! 
The  level  light  on  the  evening  hills, 
The  wild  bird-song   that  leaps  and   thrills. 

And  the  rose  of  the  sunset's  glow! 

How  the  children  chatter  in  Make-Believe, 

Just   as   at   home    they    do! 
How  close  they  cuddle,  with  laugh  and  kiss, 
To   tell  their  secrets,  nor  ever  miss 
Aught  else  if  they  have  but  you! 

All  the  people  you  love  are  in  Make-Believe, 

The  living,  and  those  called  dead; 
And  all  the  people  you'd  like  to  know — i 


IN    MAKE-BELIEVE  55 

The  "wise  of  the  earth,  both  high  and  low, 
And  the  heroes  of  days  long  fled. 

And   they   know   what's   worth   while   in   Make-Believe 

That  to  give  is  the  blessed  way; 
That   courage,   and  laughter,   and   love,  are  wise; 
That  the  sun  shines  back  of  the  cloudiest  skies; 

That  there's  end  to  the  longest  day. 

They   talk   of   high   things   in   Make-Believe, 
And  they  love  e'en  the  tiniest  joke 

And   they   take  you   sailing  o'er  land  and   sea; 
And  they'd  know  all  the  places  you'd  like  to  be 

If  never  a  word  you  spoke. 

But  the  sun  is  up  in  that  wintry  world; 

And   the   nurse   will   put    in    her   head 
And  ask,  "  Is  the  pain  any  better,  my  dear? 
Did    you    sleep   a    little?      The   doctor's    here." — 

Well,  so  am  I  here in  bed! 

And  now  it  is  mid-November,  for  the  weeks 
have  passed  by  as  I  lay  here,  writing  a  bit  as 
I  could;  and  I  am  to  be  home  Thanksgiving 
morning;  not  home  in  Make-Believe,  but  home 
in  real  Bird  Corners,  down  in  Tennessee! 
David  is  there,  for  good,  now,  running  the 
farm  as  he  planned,  but  helping  the  Peon  in 
his  office,  too;  and  Caro  is  coming  home  for 
Christmas,  and  to  stay  "  forever,"  she  says,  in 


56    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

June;  and  I  am  to  get  well — some  day — at 
home.  I  can  walk  quite  a  little  already — 
twenty  yards  sometimes;  and  the  bad  days 
are  better  than  they  used  to  be,  and  farther 
apart.  Even  Grumpy  must  admit  that  good 
bad  days  are  encouraging! 

All  the  people  you  love  in  Make-Believe? 
Not  quite  all — not  Ella.  Somehow  I  can't  look 
for  her  there  any  more;  not  since  the  day  the 
letter  came  back  unopened.  We  were  together 
in  Make-Belie ve  always  before  that.  But  when 
I  see  her  again  it  will  be  when  Make-Belie  ve 
will  have  disappeared,  with  the  world  we  see, 
and  the  real  world  will  be  plain  to  sight.  But 
everybody  else  was  there — even  pious,  pomp- 
ous Cousin  Chad,  and  foolish,  kind-hearted, 
exasperating  Cousin  Jane. 

And  now  it's  day  after  tomorrow,  and  the 
Peon  is  coming  in  four  days ! 


IV 
THE  DARK  O'  THE  YEAB 

November  30ih.  The  deepest  joys  can 
never  be  put  into  words ;  but  lying  here  in  my 
own  dear  room,  close  under  the  long  windows 
which  form  its  eastern  side,  and  looking  out 
across  the  valley  to  the  familiar  hills  beyond,  I 
know  there  is  one  spot  on  the  map  more  beauti- 
ful than  anything  Make-Belie ve  can  show.  The 
Peon  and  David  left  me  only  an  hour  ago — 
the  real  ones,  I  mean;  and  out  on  the  lawn 
Uncle  Milton  is  pretending  to  rake  invisible 
leaves,  looking  towards  my  windows  every 
few  minutes  to  assure  himself  that  I  am  really 
here. 

Near  the  wall  of  honeysuckle  along  the  pas- 
ture fence  the  cardinal  and  his  wife  are  flitting 
about,  just  as  I  left  them  three  years  ago;  and 
in  the  lilac  outside  my  window,  where  all  the 
spring  time  beauty  sleeps  safe  in  the  shelter- 

57 


58    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

ing  buds,  a  Carolina  wren  proclaims  the  tri- 
umph of  days  to  come.  His  spring  song  is  a 
bubbling  rhapsody  of  present  love  and  delight ; 
but  his  winter  song  is  vibrant  with  the  joy  of 
things  unseen.  He  sings  as  one  who  carries 
spring  in  his  heart  always,  as  vivid  a  reality  in 
December  as  when  all  the  woods  are  green.  To 
doubts,  questions  and  hopes  he  has  one  answer, 
and  he  gives  it  joyously  under  the  darkest  skies. 
Will  earth  awake  again  ?  Will  sunshine  come  ? 
Will  life  reign  in  evident  triumph,  and  winter 
and  darkness  pass?  Sur-e-ly,  sur-e-ly,  sur-e- 
ly,  sure!  The  rich  notes  thrill  with  the  joy  of 
assurance,  and  shake  him  bodily  as  he  stands 
with  up-thrown  head  and  pulsing  throat,  wag- 
ging from  beak  to  tail. 

But  like  many  another  of  the  sons  of  the 
prophets,  his  gift  of  open  vision  lies  close  to 
his  love  of  fun.  His  tail  jerks  with  a  wildness 
suggestive  of  broken  gearings  in  his  little  in- 
sides,  as  he  dashes  into  his  score  again  acceler- 
ando, singing  it  da  capo  with  a  comical  exag- 
geration of  his  former  style.  Sure-ly,  sure-ty, 
sure-ly,  sure!  He  cocks  his  head,  flirts  his  tail, 
gives  me  a  sharp  look  from  his  sharper  eye,  and 
whisks  around  the  house  in  a  twinkling. 


THE    DARK   O'   THE    YEAR    59 

And  Grace  Wood  is  coming  to  see  me  to- 
morrow! I  have  been  good  and  waited  until  I 
am  quite  rested,  and  now  I  am  to  have  my 
reward.  But  I  did  not  know  until  I  came 
home  that  George  died  two  years  ago.  There 
were  never  two  people  happier  together  than 
they;  and  yet  she  has  gone  on  writing  to 
me  all  this  time,  the  same  sunshiny,  hope- 
ful, heartening  letters  she  sent  me  when  I  first 
left  home.  That  was  always  Grace's  way; 
everything  that  came  to  her,  hurt  or  pleasure, 
went  out  from  her  again  only  as  help  to  some- 
body who  needed  it. 

I  haven't  seen  Cousin  Jane  yet,  and  David 
says  she's  been  simmering  for  days  and  is  liable 
to  boil  over  any  minute.  She  came  an  hour 
after  I  reached  home,  though  requested  to  stay 
away  until  I  sent  for  her ;  but  the  Peon  caught 
her  at  my  door  and  turned  her  back.  She  in- 
sisted she  had  something  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance to  explain  to  me ;  but  the  Peon  is  an 
awesome  person  when  he  does  lay  down  the  law, 
and  she  hasn't  been  back  since.  I  can't  help 
wondering  if  it  is  something  about  Caro — 
though  it  can't  be,  for  I've  been  Caro's  "  moth- 
er-confessor "  too  long  to  be  learning  anything 


60    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

about  her  from  Cousin  Jane.  Besides,  Caro 
will  be  here  herself  in  three  more  weeks — after 
all  these  years  and  years  I 

December  9th.  Grace  came,  her  old  dear 
self,  unchanged  except  that  the  look  of  detach- 
ment from  herself  was  deepened  in  her  clear, 
sweet  eyes,  and  about  her  smiling,  tender 
mouth. 

We  spoke  of  George  as  if  he  were  still  with 
her — as  indeed  I  think  he  is — and  of  Milly, 
now  quite  grown,  and  sharing  with  Caro  the 
honors  of  Chatterton  belledom. 

We  had  a  beautiful  time  together,  and  chat- 
ted and  giggled  as  we  have  done  these  forty 

*J     C-JCJ  »/ 

years  whenever  occasion  offered ;  and  she  went 
away  promising  to  come  soon  again  if  I  would 
keep  on  getting  better.  And  so  I  would  have 
done  but  for  Cousin  Jane.  She  was  driving 
down  the  pike  and  saw  Grace,  with  her  own 
eyes,  coming  through  the  gate.  She  drove  on 
down  the  road  a  bit  till  Grace  was  out  of  sight, 
and  then  swooped  down  on  me  like  a  blackbird 
on  a  worm.  Josie  tried  to  stop  her  at  the  front 
door;  but  she  had  known  Josie  from  her  pick- 
aninny days;  and  if  she  hadn't,  it  wouldn't 


THE   DARK   O'  THE   .YEAR    61 

have  mattered,  for  Cousin  Jane  is  not  a  person 
to  be  frustrated  by  darkies. 

She  knocked  once,  sepulchrally,  on  my  door, 
and  opened  it  on  the  instant.  She  wore  her 
best  Sunday  air,  and  eyed  me  like  a  familiar  of 
the  Holy  Office  about  to  put  a  heretic  through 
a  course  of  sprouts. 

'  Well,  Lyddy,"  she  began,  settling  weight- 
ily into  Grace's  chair,  "  so  you  lived  to  get  back 
home,  after  all.  I  hope  you're  as  grateful  to 
Providence  as  you  ought  to  be." 

Her  tone  made  it  evident  that,  though  she 
might  hope  it,  she  certainly  didn't  expect  it. 

"You've  gone  off  mightily  in  your  looks," 
she  continued;  "not  that  you  weren't  always 
sorter  peaked  an'  skinny-lookin' — '  slender/ 
Letitia  used  to  call  it!  Do  you  think  your 
mind's  gettin*  straight  any?" 

"  It's  straight,  what  there  is  of  it,"  I  said ; 
"  but  I'm  tired  just  now,  Cousin  Jane;  I  can't 
talk  very  well.  You  see  Grace  has  been 
here " 

"Didn't  I  see  her?"  she  demanded  indig- 
nantly. "That's  why  I  came.  If  you  can 
see  a  chatterer  like  her,  I  reckon  you  can 


62    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

see  me.  I  told  John  Bird  I  wanted  to  see  you 
about  Caroline." 

My  tired  eyes  opened  at  once. 

"What  is  it?  "I  asked. 

"  Caroline  is  gettin'  grown-up ;  she  was  nine- 
teen last  June.  I've  tried  my  best  to  keep 
beaux  and  foolishness  away  from  her,  but 
everything  in  town,  looks  like,  was  after  her 
last  summer ;  and  the  worst  of  it  was,  Caroline 
liked  it." 

The  corners  of  my  mouth  took  an  upward 
curve. 

'You  wait  till  I  get  through,  missy,  an' 
you'll  be  laughin'  the  other  side  of  your  mouth. 
Caroline  is  hail-fellow-well-met  with  every  boy 
in  this  town  except  David  Bird ;  and  she  knows 
perfectly  well,  for  I  told  her,  that  Chadwell 
and  I  and  you  and  John  Bird  intend  her  to 
marry  David." 

The  room  swam  round,  and  I  closed  my  eyes. 
Speech  was  impossible. 

"  Good  land,  Lyddy!  Don't  go  to  faintin* 
— I  didn't  know  you  were  such  a  baby.  You 
needn't  get  so  scared,  child.  Jane  Grackle  is 
pretty  safe  to  get  her  own  way,  and  long  as 
your  way's  my  way  you'll  get  yours,  too.  She'll 


THE    DARK    O'   THE    YEAR    63 

marry  him  yet ;  young  folks  haven't  any  sense ; 
they  need  managin,'  and  I " 

"  For  heaven's  sake  don't  try  to  manage 
Caro,"  I  gasped.  "  And  as  for  telling  her  I 
intended  her  to  marry  David — go,  before  you 
say  something  else  that  will  make  forgiveness 
impossible ! " 

Cousin  Jane  turned  purple.  I  saw  that  as 
my  eyes  closed  again.  She  rose  stiffly,  with 
rustling  skirts. 

"  If  I  didn't  know  you'd  lost  what  little  sense 
the  Lord  gave  you,  Lyddy  Bird,  I'd  box  your 
ears  for  your  impudence.  I'll  go  when  I  get 
ready,  miss.  I  didn't  tell  Caroline  you  said 
you  intended  her  to  marry  David — I  know 
you've  never  said  a  word  about  it :  I  just  took  it 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Chadwell  and  I  feel  it 
our  duty  to  provide  for  her — not  in  money,  of 
course;  she  has  quite  a  tidy  little  fortune  of 
her  own,  and  of  course  you  and  John  Bird  ex- 
pect to  leave  David  all  you've  got ;  they  won't 
need  anything  from  us.  But  we  want  to  see 
her  settled :  an'  David's  steady  an'  reliable  an' 
a  real  good  business  boy,  for  all  you've  raised 
him  so  harum-scarum;  an'  it  stands  to  reason, 
with  your  keepin'  Caroline  all  the  time  like  you 


64    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

did,  an'  throwin'  away  the  good  stout  clothes  I 
provided  for  her  to  waste  your  own  money  in 
fol-de-rols,  an'  good  as  adoptin'  her,  you  might 
say,  that  you'd  picked  her  out  for  David  an' 
meant  to  leave  them  your  money.  Don't 

you?" 

I  swept  together  my  floating  wits,  steadied 
them  with  a  supreme  effort,  and  considered  for 
an  instant,  while  I  felt  Cousin  Jane's  angry 
stare  battering  at  my  closed  lids.  I  must  tell 
her  something,  and  nothing. 

"  Caro  and  David  are  like  our  own  children," 
I  said  weakly ;  "  we  want  their  happiness,  and 
nothing  else.  If  they  love  one  another  as 
brother  and  sister,  it's  quite  to  be  expected, 
don't  you  think  ?  Whatever  made  you  think  we 
wanted  a  marriage,  brought  up  as  they  have 
been?" 

"  Do  you  mean  you  won't  leave  them  the 
money?  " 

"  I  mean  money  has  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
We  expect  to  do  all  we  can  for  them,  and  to  let 
them  be  happy  in  their  own  ways,  not  in  ours." 

"  .Well,  any  way  suits  Caroline  that's  not  my 
way  an'  that  makes  mischief — I  can  see  that 
plain  enough,  an'  I  told  her  so.  I  scolded  her 


THE   DARK   O'   THE    YEAR    65 

good.  An'  it's  my  opinion  David's  in  love  with 
her.  I  caught  him  lookin'  at  her  one  day  when 
they  were  fishin'  down  by  the  mill,  an'  I  just 
happened  to  go  by  in  the  buggy.  I  couldn't 
get  a  word  out  of  him  when  I  asked  him  about 
it;  an'  when  I  told  him  I'd  given  Caroline  a 
talkin'-to,  an'  I'd  set  my  head  on  his  havin'  her, 
he  glared  at  me  as  if  I  was  tryin'  to  murder 
him,  an'  told  me  to  let  Caroline  alone,  an* 
let  her  marry  whoever  she  wanted  to.  He 
ain't  been  near  me  since,  an'  won't  hardly 
speak  to  me  ;  an'  Caroline  behaved  like  a 
spitfire  when  I  went  to  her  about  it.  But 
I  believe  David's  willin'  if  she'd  be — but  she 
ain't,  yet.  You  may  as  well  know  there's  goin' 
to  be  trouble  when  she  comes  home.  It  ain't 
like  it  used  to  be;  an'  you'd  better  get  up  out 
of  that  bed  an'  be  gettin'  ready  to  help 
straighten  things  out." 

How  much  longer  she  would  have  stayed 
there  I  don't  know.  Her  voice,  near  and  stri- 
dent as  it  was,  was  drifting  off  into  a  world 
that  seemed  far  away,  when  the  door  opened 
with  soft  quickness  and  David  was  in  the  room. 

Before  he  could  speak  Cousin  Jane  was  lum- 
bering away,  his  eyes  driving  her  like  bayonets. 


66    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

He  poured  out  something  and  held  it  to  my 
lips,  and  then  sat  stroking  my  hand  as  gently 
as  Caro  could  have  done.  And  for  days  and 
nights  I  lay  here  in  the  clutch  of  the  old  weak- 
ness and  the  old  pain,  and  scarcely  heeding 
either  in  the  blackness  of  this  new  fear.  I  have 
been  trying  for  days  to  write  it  all  down,  think- 
ing maybe  I  could  face  it  better  so,  and  find 
some  way  of  deliverance  from  Cousin  Jane's 
cataclysmic  diplomacy. 

That  Caro  should  marry  David !  Has  there 
ever  been  a  time  when  I  didn't  hope  for  it? 
And  I  have  never  said  it,  even  to  the  Peon  him- 
self, for  fear  the  very  walls  should  carry  the 
secret  and  make  the  hope  impossible :  and  now ! 
If  Jane  Grackle — but  there's  no  use  railing; 
when  one's  hopes  are  in  ruins  it  takes  all  one's 
strength  to  face  the  disaster;  if  I  waste  mine 
in  reproaches  I  shall  turn  coward,  and  then 
Grumpy  will  rule  my  world. 

December  17tK>  Gray  days,  with  sullen 
skies  which  will  neither  shine  nor  storm.  The 
mocking  birds  have  entered  their  winter  si- 
lence, and  eye  me  indifferently  as  they  hop 
about  under  my  windows  picking  up  the 


crumbs  which  Josie  scatters  daily  for  my 
feathered  guests.  They  never  come  together 
at  this  time  of  the  year.  Each  goes  his  own 
path  in  solitude  as  well  as  in  silence.  But  the 
flickers  are  more  sociable,  and  the  wrens  are 
always  in  pairs.  The  cardinal  and  his  wife 
come  together  every  morning,  she  gently  in- 
different as  usual,  and  he  the  devoted  lover 
of  all  the  year  around. 

Over  in  the  pasture  the  meadow-larks  sing 
half-heartedly,  and  a  titmouse  protests  sturd- 
ily against  their  sentimental  pathos.  He  is 
pecking  at  a  magnolia  seed  tucked  under  his 
toes  as  he  sits  in  the  beech  at  breakfast. 
"  Here!  Here!  Here!  Here!"  he  exclaims.  He 
believes  in  making  the  best  of  things,  does  the 
titmouse,  and  holds  his  crest  as  high  these  dark, 
raw  days  as  when  he  goes  courting  in  a  world 
that  is  in  gala  attire  for  the  occasion. 

And  if  the  pain  isn't  better  yet,  the  weak- 
ness is ;  and  that  is  always  the  worst  part  of  it. 
I  shall  be  out  in  my  wheeled  chair  yet,  by  the 
time  Caro  comes.  And  as  to  Cousin  Jane's  non- 
sense, she  may  make  mischief — has  made 
it,  evidently ;  but  if  they're  really  made  for  each 
other,  as  I  have  hoped  for  so  long,  surely  an 


68    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

old  woman's  foolish  tongue  can  never  rum 
their  lives.  Sur-e-ly,  sur-e-ly,  sur-e-ly,  sure! 
Oh,  bless  the  little  red-brown  seer!  He  tilts 
on  the  lilac  bush  a  second,  winks  at  me  dis- 
tinctly, and  is  off  with  a  whisk  of  his  tail  which 
says  plainly,  "  Don't  be  more  of  a  fool  than 
you  must  be,  old  pal!"  and  I  won't. 

December  24th.  How  full  of  happiness  one's 
world  can  be!  Caro  is  not  much  bigger  than 
her  feathered  namesake  out  of  doors,  but  the 
place  overflows  with  her  presence. 

I  was  afraid  Cousin  Jane  wouldn't  let  her 
stay  here  after  the  late  unpleasantness,  and 
was  lying  on  the  south  porch  the  other  day, 
trying  to  devise  some  way  to  make  my  peace 
with  her,  when  she  drove  around  the  house 
and  over  the  grass,  and  stopped  her  buggy 
close  to  my  chair. 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Jane,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you ! " 
I  exclaimed.  "I've  been  wanting  to  ask  you 
to  let  Caro  come  straight  to  me  and  stay  with 
us  while  she's  at  home.  I  haven't  had  her  for 
three  years,  Cousin  Jane;  and  I  can  make  it 
all  right  with  her  about  David,  I'm  sure." 

"  I  knew  you  could  do  something  if  you 


THE   DARK   O'   THE    YEAR    69 

were  a  mind  to  try,"  she  said,  with  her  se- 
verest kiss-of-peace  manner,  which  always 
aroused  an  unreasonable  combativeness  in  my 
unregenerate  soul.  "  I  am  perfectly  willing, 
Lyddy,  to  let  by-gones  be  by-gones.  I  never 
bear  malice,  even  against  ill-tempered  folks. 
I  came  over  to  say  if  you'd  do  what  you 
could  with  Caroline,  I'd  let  her  stay  here.  She 
always  was  keen  to  please  you — why,  I  never 
could  see;  but  she  is;  and  I'll  not  let  my  per- 
sonal feelin's  stand  in  the  way  when  it  comes 
to  dischargin'  my  duty  to  that  poor  motherless 
girl.  She  can  come." 

!<  Thank  you,  Cousin  Jane,"  I  said  heartily. 

"You're  welcome,  Lyddy,  you're  welcome: 
I  don't  hold  anything  against  you.  I  want  to 
set  you  a  Christian  example :  maybe  it'll  have 
some  effect  on  you,  now  you're  all  broken  down 
with  havin'  too  much  of  your  own  way.  Looks 
like,  with  all  the  afflictions  the  Lord's  sent  on 
you,  an'  old  as  you  are,  you  might  be  learnin* 
better." 

I  suppose  I  am  a  sinner;  but  somehow,  all 
my  life,  whenever  Cousin  Jane  takes  her  re- 
ligion in  both  hands  and  tries  to  ram  it  into 
me  in  her  best  pile-driver  manner,  my  own 


70    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

scuttles  off  and  dives  into  the  first  rat-hole  it 
can  find ;  and  I  have  a  dreadful  time  dragging 
it  out  again  and  making  it  help  me  behave.  So  I 
took  a  long  look  at  the  blackbirds  under  the 
maple,  piously  jabbing  the  English  sparrows 
to  discourage  their  greediness  about  crumbs, 
before  I  said  soberly : 

"  I  don't  believe  the  Lord  sent  me  any  af- 
flictions. I  think  He  just  tries  to  teach  me 
how  to  get  the  good  out  of  what  comes,  and  to 
rise  by  it.  I  think  that's  one  of  His  special 
jobs  in  this  world — trying  to  turn  our  afflic- 
tions into  wings." 

'  Well,  we  all  know  you're  sorter  half- 
cracked,  Lyddy,"  said  Cousin  Jane,  with  a 
manner  intended  to  be  genial.  She  was  evi- 
dently bent  on  not  quarreling.  "Just  do 
your  best  for  Caroline."  She  gathered  up  the 
reins. 

"  Cousin  Jane,"  I  said  quickly,  "  don't  say 
a  word  more  to  Caro  about — those  things. 
Please." 

"  I'll  do  as  I  see  fit,  Lyddy,"  she  answered 
stiffy.  "  Bein'  willin'  to  let  you  help  don't 
mean  I  can  trust  you  to  manage  things.  Well, 
good-bye.  Do  try  to  get  up  an'  take  some 


THE   DARK   O'   THE    YEAR    71 

exercise ;  it'll  do  you  good.  I'm  a  worker,  my- 
self, an'  always  was ;  an'  you  see  how  strong  I 
am — not  but  what  I  could  complain  if  I  wanted 
to,  like  some."  She  disappeared  around  the 
house,  tucking  her  buggy-robe  closely  around 
her  with  one  hand  as  she  drove. 

So  yesterday  morning  I  was  out  on  the  front 
porch,  watching  the  road  with  my  glasses ;  and 
there  they  came,  whirling  in  from  the  pike  in 
the  open  car,  the  top  being  down  that  I  might 
see  her  afar  off.  Caro  was  driving,  and  David 
beamed  beside  her,  while  the  Peon  beamed  on 
the  back  seat. 

The  whole  place  feels  her  presence,  and  over- 
flows with  her  music,  her  laughter,  her  sweet 
and  tricksy  ways.  She  is  off  with  the  young 
folks  in  Chatterton  now,  helping  with  the 
Christmas  tree  at  the  church ;  but  before  she  left 
she  wheeled  me  out  to  my  cot  under  the  maple 
tree — or  superintended  Uncle  Milton's  doing 
it,  while  she  fluttered  about  with  the  pillows, 
and  scolded  us  for  letting  her  do  all  the  work. 
She  scattered  crumbs  for  the  birds,  just  as  she 
used  to,  and  then  cuddled  down  on  the  same 
little  stool  where  she  used  to  sit,  her  curly 
brown  head  on  my  pillows.  Not  Make-Believe 


72    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

any  more,  thank  heaven,  but  Caro,  and  the  real 
Bird  Corners! 

We  were  silent  awhile,  and  then  she  began 
to  talk — all  the  loving  nonsense  and  little  inti- 
mate confidences  that  had  always  come  when 
we  were  alone.  But  not  a  word  of  David,  nor 
of  Cousin  Jane.  I  could  not  let  our  first  talk 
begin  a  silence  between  us,  so  I  told  her  what 
had  happened.  She  had  flushed  a  little  at  first, 
but  her  laughter  bubbled  as  she  kissed  me. 

"  Sweet  Mammy,  don't  you  think  I  know 
Cousin  Jane?  I  knew  you  never  said  it,  nor 
meant  it.  And  I'm  sure  you'd  let  me  marry 
the  man  in  the  moon,  if  I  wanted  to.  I  did  get 
mad  with  her  for  talking  to  David — that  rather 
passed  bounds.  But  David's  a  darling,  and  as 
sensible  as  can  be.  We  thrashed  it  all  out  af- 
terwards, and  we  aren't  going  to  make  our- 
selves unhappy  because  Cousin  Jane's  a  born 
donkey  and  can't  help  it.  Don't  you  bother 
about  it  a  minute.  We'll  both  of  us  get  mar- 
ried some  of  these  days,  and  you'll  have  four 
children  to  love  you  instead  of  two." 

"And  there  isn't  anybody  else  yet?"  I 
asked,  my  face  turning  to  hers  as  I  lay,  and 
her  clear  eyes  looking  into  mine. 


THE   DARK   O'   THE   YEAR    73 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  with  David,"  she  said, 
considering;  "but  as  for  me — Mammy  Lil, 
would  you  rather  be  a  young  man's  darling,  or 
marry  a  very  old  and  rich  and  apoplectic  gen- 
tleman, worry  him  to  death  fast,  and  be  happy 
and  independent  forever  after?" 

"  Who  is  the  young  man? " 

"Oh,  anybody;  I  haven't  decided;  but  I 
suppose  I  could  get  one.  You  know  I  wrote 
you  about  the  boys  last  summer,  and  how  wild 
Cousin  Jane  was.  She  was  more  fun  than  the 
boys.  You  don't  really  want  me  to  marry,  do 
you?  I'm  having  such  a  good  time."  She  sat 
up  and  waved  her  hand.  "  There's  Milly,  and 
I  must  go.  Now,  lie  here  and  be  good  till  I 
get  back,  and  I'll  never  marry  anybody  you 
don't  want  me  to."  And  she  ran  down  to  the 
gate,  pinning  her  hat  on  as  she  went. 

December  30th.  Note-books  are  superfluous 
when  I  can  have  Caro.  It  is  so  good  to  see  one 
so  pretty,  so  eager,  so  joyous,  so  young  in  body 
and  soul.  She  is  the  very  spirit  of  youth,  with 
her  swift,  outgoing  life,  her  quick  response  to 
it  on  all  sides,  her  gay  resourcefulness  in  the 
little  emergencies  of  her  small  world.  I  for- 


74    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

get  my  body,  and  all  its  pain-worn  helpless- 
ness, while  she  dances  through  the  house.  It 
doesn't  matter  so  much  that  I  must  watch  in 
idleness  while  the  life  I  love  sweeps  by,  if 
somebody  else  has  my  own  vivid  joy  in  it — a 
joy  unhampered  by  weariness  or  pain.  No 
wonder  the  girls  can't  stir  without  her,  nor 
resent  it  that  she  draws  the  boys  as  honey 
draws  flies. 

I  can't  see  that  she  cares  to  draw  any  one  of 
them  yet,  though  she  dearly  loves  to  draw 
them  all.  She  is  in  that  kitten  stage  which 
comes  to  every  girl  alive.  She  wants  to  play, 
and  she  finds  the  new  game  fascinating.  What 
the  boys  find  it  doesn't  concern  her  yet ;  she  is 
exploring  the  possibilities  of  the  game. 

How  David  feels  toward  her  is  more  than  I 
can  tell.  He  is  as  frankly  fond  of  her  as  when 
he  used  to  carry  her  across  the  muddy  places 
down  by  the  brook,  and  tell  her  fairy  tales 
while  they  popped  corn  by  the  winter  fire.  But 
as  to  that  look  in  his  eyes  whereof  Cousin  Jane 
prated — well,  I've  never  seen  it;  and  I  rather 
doubt  if  she  did  either. 

Yet  somehow  I  can't  help  the  uneasy  feel- 
ing that  she  has  hoodooed  my  secret  hopes.  She 


THE    DARK    O'   THE    YEAR    75 

never  had  influence  enough  to  counteract  any- 
thing other  members  of  the  family  might  elect 
to  do ;  but  whomever  she  sided  with  was  a  sub- 
ject  for  condolence.  She  could  never  be  sup- 
pressed when  she  espoused  a  cause,  and  her 
well-meant  activities  were  invariably  fatal  to 
the  best-laid  plans.  What  have  I  done  that,  in 
addition  to  all  my  other  afflictions,  Cousin 
Jane  should  thrust  herself  upon  me  as  an  ally? 
I  had  counted  so  comfortingly  upon  her  op- 
position. David  was  never  fond  of  her,  and 
it  is  only  of  late  years  that  she  has  ceased  to 
predict  for  him  a  future  of  State  support.  It 
isn't  that  she's  fond  of  the  boy  now;  it's  be- 
cause Cousin  Chad  found  out  how  he  managed 
that  affair  for  the  Peon  last  winter,  and  be- 
cause the  farm  here  at  Bird  Corners  is  becom- 
ing one  of  the  show  places,  agriculturally,  of 
this  part  of  the  State.  And  if  a  richer  suitor 
appears  she'll  discard  David  like  an  old  shoe. 
I  confess  I  am  taking  great  comfort  in  the 
very  apparent  devotion  of  David's  old  antagon- 
ist, Robert  White.  He  is  older  than  David, 
and  is  advancing  rapidly  in  one  of  the  largest 
banks  in  the  city,  of  which  his  father  is  an  im- 
portant director.  Bob  is  a  nice  fellow,  little 


76    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

spoiled  by  prosperity,  and  his  prospective  for- 
tune quite  overshadows  David's — in  fact,  he  is 
one  of  the  "  catches  "  of  this  part  of  the  State. 
He  has  been  staying  out  here  at  his  father's 
ever  since  Caro  came  home,  and  makes  no  secret 
of  the  reason.  If  Cousin  Jane  becomes  aware 
of  him  she  will  espouse  his  cause,  con  amore, 
and  my  own  hopes  will  have  a  rosier  appear- 
ance. Poor  Bob!  I  don't  bear  him  a  bit  of 
malice;  but  I  must  shunt  Cousin  Jane  off  on 
somebody! 

January  5th.  Caro  left  us  last  night,  pro- 
testing as  she  went,  and  insisting  that  she  would 
come  home  in  defiance  of  everybody  if  I  had 
any  more  back-sets.  But  we  all  want  her  to 
finish  the  year  under  her  new  singing-master: 
her  voice  is  really  wonderful,  and  she  ought  not 
to  stop  yet.  The  six  months  will  be  gone  be- 
fore we  know  it ;  and  then  she  will  come  to  stay. 

For  myself,  I  have  stored  up  delight  enough 
in  these  ten  days  to  brighten  this  dark  Jan- 
uary weather  for  weeks  to  come.  And  the 
days  are  already  lengthening.  Spring  is  on 
the  way,  in  fact — and  summer  won't  be  far 
behind. 


THE   DARK   O'   THE   YEAR    77 

January  10th.  What  winter  colors  could 
bedeck  the  world  I  never  knew  until  to- 
day! 

First  came  the  rain — a  soft,  misty  down- 
dropping  which  fell  noiselessly  on  the  half- 
frozen  earth,  softening  the  icy  ridges  in  the 
road  beyond  the  porch,  till  they  crunched  under 
Uncle  Milton's  heavy  feet  and  splashed  into 
the  water  collecting  in  their  ruts.  Long  before 
sunset  they  wheeled  me  back  to  my  room,  where 
the  thickening  clouds  shut  us  into  a  twilight 
gloom,  through  which  the  north  wind's  voice 
cut  icily. 

By  morning  the  clouds  were  gone,  and 
with  them  had  vanished  the  work-a-day  earth. 
In  its  place  is  a  world  of  faery,  of  glitter,  of 
fire,  of  pallid  white.  Over  all  the  fields 
the  snow  lies  thick,  down  to  the  very  edge  of 
the  brook.  But  above  the  snow,  from  the 
smallest  weed  whose  skeleton  shakes  in  the  bit- 
ter wind  to  the  topmost  twig  of  the  tallest 
tree,  is  silver  and  fire  and  ice.  The  stubble  is 
all  one  elfin  glitter ;  and  beyond  the  gate,  along 
the  pike,  where  dried  golden-rod,  poke-berry, 
mustard,  and  all  earth's  wild  outcast  beauty 
blossomed  months  before,  are  billows  of  frost- 


78    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

wrought  loveliness  as  pure  as  pearls  and  as 
delicate  as  the  fronds  of  ferns. 

Overhead  the  sky  is  deepest  blue,  rich  foil 
and  background  for  the  trees,  all  silver  here, 
all  glitter  there,  and  everywhere  starred  \vith 
flashing  points  of  red  and  blue  and  orange,  as 
some  jagged  point  of  ice  catches  the  sunlight 
and  tears  it  into  dazzling  shreds  of  color. 

Deep  blue,  overhead ;  but  everywhere  along 
the  horizon  a  soft,  colorless,  distant  sky,  across 
which  the  half-congealed  moisture  of  the  air 
draw  its  dimming  yet  invisible  veil.  The  hills 
are  pale,  aloof;  but  here  and  there  the  low 
sun  strikes  them  and  smites  the  glory  of  their 
tree-tops  into  a  halo  of  pearl  and  fire  about 
their  brows.  And  what  may  be  the  beauty  of 
life  more  abundant  when  the  beauty  of  life 
withdrawn  clutches  the  heart  like  this? 

January  13th.  There  is  nobody  to  fellow- 
ship with  today  but  the  blackbirds  and  the 
English  sparrows.  David  is  off  lecturing  at 
some  farmers'  institutes,  and  the  Peon  left  this 
morning  for  a  week's  trip.  Grumpy  is  here,  as 
usual,  and  the  pain  in  my  spine ;  but  I  am  not 
of  a  mind  to  fellowship  with  them;  they  can 


THE    DARK    O'   THE    YEAR    79 

sulk  together  in  the  corner  if  they  want  to. 

Eh,  but  when  the  dark  shuts  out  even  the 
scandal-mongering  sparrows,  the  room  is  a  bit 
empty  and  lonesome-looking !  Grumpy  and  the 
back  don't  count ;  they  are  both  in  the  skeleton- 
closet.  But  the  key  seems  lost,  and  they  have  an 
unpleasant  way  of  peeping  through  the  crack 
of  the  door.  There's  no  sense  in  staying  here 
this  night,  so  it's  ho,  for  Make-Believe  for  me  1 

January  15th.  When  one  can't  have  the  big 
things  one  wants,  one  can  at  least  play  with  the 
little  things  one  has;  and  in  doing  so  may 
learn  with  growing  thankfulness  how  great  a 
resource  a  little  thing  may  become. 

There  are  so  many  playthings  in  the  world — 
no  need  is  left  unsupplied.  When  one  is  too  ill 
to  think  and  too  weak  to  look,  there  are  fleeting 
glimpses,  through  half-shut  lids,  of  blue  sky 
beyond  one's  windows,  of  a  drifting  cloud,  a 
flash  of  wings,  or  the  waving  of  boughs  in  the 
wind ;  beautiful  pictures  which  return  uncalled- 
for  to  float  above  that  sea  of  pain  wherein  one 
rocks,  and  to  steady  one  with  a  half-conscious- 
ness of  an  upper  world  of  beauty  and  peace, 
real,  though  beyond  one's  reach. 


80    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

And  when  one  can  think  a  little — oh,  so 
many  things!  One  cannot  possibly  be  cut  off 
from  life  if  one's  heart  be  in  it.  It  isn't  the 
moving  of  one's  body  that  counts,  but  the 
clasping  of  life  with  the  heart.  We  really  live 
to  the  exact  extent  we  care,  and  so  find  the 
interest  with  which  every  atom  and  phase  of 
life  is  stored. 

"He  brought  an  eye  for  all  he  saw." 

Was  ever  anything  more  beautiful  said  of 
any  one  than  that?  And  that  is  what  I  pray 
for — the  seeing  eye ;  that,  whether  my  body  be 
well  or  ill,  I  may  enter  in  at  the  open  doors 
which  swing  wide  on  every  hand,  and  see,  and 
love,  and  rejoice;  understanding  where  I 
may,  and  happy  where  I  may  not  to  watch, 
to  learn,  to  wonder  like  a  child. 

January  15th.  The  real  freedom  of  life  is 
measured  not  by  one's  liberty  to  do  as  one 
likes,  but  by  the  things  one  can  afford  to  do 
without.  And  there  is  no  poverty  in  such  free- 
dom: it  is  through  the  enrichment  of  the  inner 
life  that  one's  resources  grow  great  enough  to 
enable  one  to  dispense  with  the  outward  things 
once  so  necessary. 


V 

PREMONITIONS 

January  21st.  This  is  one  of  those  beauti- 
ful, balmy  days  which  sometimes  come,  late  in 
January,  to  convince  the  veriest  blind  pessi- 
mist that  spring  is  on  the  way.  The  chicka- 
dees are  half  mad,  flying  headlong  from  tree 
to  tree,  and  singing  their  gay  little  winter  score 
with  an  abandon  unknown  before.  The  tit- 
mice are  whistling  cheerily;  and  the  jays, 
though  not  a  hint  of  spring  sweetness  softens 
their  harsh  tones,  are  dancing  a  little  in  the 
hackberry  as  they  squawk.  The  wren  is  singing 
rapturously,  as  he  has  done  all  these  sunless 
weeks,  not  because  of  springtime  and  April 
air,  but  because  love  and  life  are  always  pres- 
ent with  him,  and  nothing  else  matters. 

The  mocking  bird  is  still  solitary,  wrapped 
in  contemplation,  like  some  prophet  of  old. 

81 


82    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

Nor  is  the  cardinal  singing  yet.  But  his  not 
singing  is  no  sign  of  faint-heartedness.  Yes- 
terday he  perched  in  the  tulip  tree  and  said 
"Cheer!  Cheer!  Cheer!"  soberly,  decidedly, 
as  if  the  sweet  reasonableness  of  good  cheer 
had  grown  upon  him  through  the  dark  January 
weather.  He  will  be  singing  it  soon. 

There!  I've  been  out  on  the  porch,  and 
written  in  my  note  book  on  a  bad  day — the 
best  bad  day  I've  had  yet;  and  when  bad  days 
are  best  bad  days  Grumpy  may  as  well  take  a 
back  seat. 

January  28th.  Best  bad  days  are  all  very 
well;  but  a  combination  of  best  bad  days  and 
Cousin  Jane  is  more  grandeur  than  my  feeble 
frame  can  live  up  to.  It  has  taken  me  a  week 
to  catch  up. 

She  drove  up  just  as  I  closed  my  note-book 
— quite  in  time  to  catch  me  in  the  act. 

"  Tsck !  "  she  said  in  disgust,  as  she  whirled 
my  chair  about  with  a  strong  hand  and  wheeled 
me  unceremoniously  into  the  house.  "  I  sup- 
pose you  want  to  put  your  eyes  out  next,  and 
have  everybody  pityin'  your  afflictions  when 
you've  made  yourself  blind  layin'  flat  on  your 


PREMONITIONS  88 

back  an*  scribblin*  nonsense — poetry,  like 
enough! "  Contempt  could  no  further  go. 

"  I'm  sure  you  never  heard  of  my  writing 
poetry  in  your  life,  Cousin  Jane,"  I  protested 
meekly. 

"  No,  an*  I  don't  want  to.  I  know  just  the 
kind  of  stuff  it  'ud  be.  But  I  don't  see  what 
else  you  get  to  write  layin'  out  there  all  by 
yourself,  with  nothin'  to  see,  an'  no  sensible 
occupation  to  keep  you  busy.  I  never  could 
abide  an  idler." 

"When  did  you  hear  from  Caro?"  I  in- 
quired. In  the  interest  of  peace,  a  change  of 
subject  seemed  advisable. 

"  Why,  Caroline's  careless  about  writin* — 
which  of  course  I  might  have  expected,  seein* 
the  way  you  brought  her  up.  But  Bob  White's 
been  up  there  lately,  an'  I  saw  him  when  I 
went  to  town  yesterday.  I  met  him  on  the 
street,  while  I  was  goin'  to  get  my  new  glasses, 
an'  he  took  me  up  to  the  new  hotel  to  lunch." 

She  bridled  with  pleasure,  and  I  coughed 
to  strangle  my  laugh  of  delight.  Bob  White 
paying  court  to  Cousin  Jane,  without  my  med- 
dling the  least  little  bit ! 

"  We  had  four  courses,"  she  went  on  in  hap- 


84    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

py  retrospection.  "  I  didn't  know  there  was 
such  a  nice  place  in  town.  I  don't  eat  much 
lunch  usually  when  I  go — looks  like  it  ain't 
right  to  waste  the  Lord's  money  just  pam- 
perin'  the  flesh,  as  you  might  say;  an'  besides, 
I'd  rather  save  it.  I  never  did  hold  by  spendin' 
money  for  foolishness  like  you  an'  John 
Bird." 

I'm  sure  the  Peon  and  I  haven't  been  on  the 
simplest  kind  of  a  lark  for  years;  and  when 
we  went  it  was  usually  a  picnic  in  the  woods 
with  the  children,  and  the  plainest  of  home- 
made lunches;  but  I  received  this  snub  in  si- 
lence. Cousin  Jane  plunged  on  with  her 
news. 

"  Bob's  heels  over  head  in  love  with  Caroline 
— that's  easy  to  see.  It  'ud  be  a  good  match  for 
her,  too." 

"  But  you  said  you  wanted  David  for  her," 
I  objected  in  as  dolorous  a  voice  as  I  could 
muster. 

"  I  aint  so  favorable  to  David  as  I  was," 
she  answered  frankly.  "  He's  got  a  mighty 
ugly  temper.  He  flared  up  at  me  downright 
impudent  that  time  I  spoke  to  him  about  Caro- 
line; an'  he  good  as  turned  me  out  of  your 


PREMONITIONS  85 

room  one  day,  without  opening  his  mouth. 
He'd  lead  Caroline  a  hard  life.  Of  course  I 
didn't  say  a  word  to  Bob,  but  I  saw  by  the  way 
he  went  on  how  it  was.  A  keen  business  man 
like  him  don't  go  a  hundred  miles  out  of  his 
way  to  visit  a  girl  for  nothin'.  I  know." 

"  But  you  thought  David  cared,"  I  pleaded. 

"  If  he  does,  let  him  do  somethin'  to  prove  it. 
'stead  o'  settin'  like  a  bump  on  a  log.  I  ain't 
goin'  to  help  him  another  mite." 

Cousin  Jane's  visits  certainly  add  to  one's 
list  of  mercies.  I've  been  telling  Grumpy  all 
the  week  that  nothing  can  be  very  bad  as  long 
as  she  no  longer  smiles  on  David,  but  afflicts 
Bob  White  with  her  disastrous  friendship. 
My  clouds  are  silver-lined  indeed! 

January  29.  The  first  spring  signs  the  birds 
give  us :  we  must  look  skyward  for  them,  past 
earth  altogether.  The  next  spring  signs  are 
hidden  deep,  in  those  dark  places  where  sun- 
light never  comes.  For  the  violets  which  em- 
purple the  long  borders,  like  the  song  of  the 
Carolina  wren,  are  not  a  sign  of  spring,  but  a 
constant  witness  to  ever-present  life.  They 
bloom  every  month  of  the  winter,  just  as  the. 


86    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

bird  sings.  The  spring-time  message  is  brought 
by  something  of  a  frailer  courage  than  theirs 
— something  which  must  needs  retrace  steps 
the  violets  have  never  taken. 

So  today,  as  the  Peon  wheeled  me  out  to  the 
maple,  he  stopped  at  one  of  the  jonquil  beds 
while  I  climbed  down  to  brush  aside  the  leaves 
which  protect  the  bulbs  from  frost,  and  to 
stir  the  earth  with  loving  fingers.  Not  yet. 
Life  is  at  work,  I  know,  but  too  deep  down  to 
be  seen  as  yet.  I  drew  the  leaves  back  again, 
my  hands  shaking  a  little  with  the  joy  of  grub- 
bing in  the  dirt  again — real  outdoor  dirt,  that 
runs  clear  through  to  blue  sky  on  the  other  side, 
instead  of  stopping  at  a  saucer  six  inches  from 
the  top  of  a  pot.  How  many  years!  Would 
I  ever  make  up  for  the  lost  years,  I  wondered, 
and  then  caught  my  breath  and  the  Peon's 
hand  with  a  laugh.  For  the  cardinal  was  sing- 
ing again — Cheer!  Cheer!  Cheer!  A-wet-year! 
A-wet-year!  Cheer!  Cheer! 

It  was  a  dull,  cloudy  day;  but  vision  had 
come  to  him,  and  what  he  saw  he  would  live  up 
to.  He  sat  on  the  grape  arbor,  back  of  the  jon- 
quil bed,  and  sang,  deliberately  at  first,  stout- 
heartedly, but  with  a  rising  tide  of  joy — A-wet- 


PREMONITIONS  87 

year!  Cheer!  Cheer!  A  wet  year  seems  to  be 
his  idea  of  heaven  and  springtime  rolled  into 
one.  Rain — and  swelling  life !  The  lost  years 
will  be  made  good  yet.  And  shall  one  grudge 
the  time  for  rain? 

January  30th.  I  ventured  on  the  subject  of 
Caro  with  David  last  night,  and  find  myself 
wondering  many  things.  The  fact  that  I  have 
always  admitted  the  children's  full  right  to  re- 
serve from  me  any  secret  they  wished  to  keep 
largely  accounts,  I  believe,  for  the  closeness  of 
their  confidence.  And  I  didn't  intend  to  pry 
now — only  to  open  a  way  in  case  he  chose  to. 
take  it,  as  I  used  sometimes  to  make  confi- 
dences easy  for  him  as  a  child. 

"  Bob  White  is  laying  siege  to  Cousin  Jane's 
favor,  Davy,  dear,"  I  said,  using  the  baby 
name  he  still  loves  in  our  private  talks.  "  She 
has  sold  him  her  good  will  for  a  four-course 
lunch." 

David  laughed  a  little. 

:<  Worst  affliction  could  happen  to  him,  I 
should  think.  What  on  earth  does  he  want 
with  it?" 

"  She  thinks  he's  in  love  with  Caro." 


88    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

"  Probably  is.  Most  of  the  fellows  are ;  and 
Bob's  nobody's  fool." 

He  had  cuddled  his  brown  head  under  my 
hand  as  he  sat  on  a  stool  by  my  bed,  and  I 
couldn't  see  his  face.  His  voice  was  so  very 
natural  that  it  suggested  an  effort  to  make  it 
so. 

'  Well,  I  doubt  if  he  displayed  any  special 
wisdom  when  he  tried  to  win  Cousin  Jane 
over — if  he  tried,"  I  said.  *  When  you  go 
courting,  I  don't  think  you'll  spend  much  time 
on  the  girl's  guardians." 

"  Not  much  time  on  anybody,  you  mean,  till 
I  get  things  settled." 

"  And  you'd  rather  I  waited  with  the  rest, 
dear,  wouldn't  you? " 

He  lifted  his  head  and  sat  facing  me,  strok- 
ing my  hand. 

"  I  couldn't  talk  about  it,  little  Mammy, 
even  to  you.  But  I  wouldn't  mind  your  know- 
ing about  it  if  you  could  understand  without 
words.  You  have  always  done  that  when  I 
couldn't  talk." 

His  eyes  met  mine  fully,  his  heart  unveiled 
behind  them.  That  is  one  of  the  beautiful 
things  about  David's  reserve — the  secret  door 


PREMONITIONS  89 

he  opens  into  it  for  one  whom  he  truly  loves. 

"  I  do  understand,"  I  said  slowly.  "  But, 
remember,  dear,  a  woman  loves  to  be  loved. 
You  musn't  have  any  reserves  with  her  when 
the  time  comes.  Let  her  understand  your  love 
is  great  enough  to  justify  the  demands  it  makes 
upon  her.  If  she  hurts  you  at  first,  don't  try 
to  shield  her  by  letting  her  think  it's  a  light 
matter.  Be  as  honest  with  her  as  you  are  with 
yourself.  And  you'll  win  her,  dear;  I  know 
you  will.  And  you'll  do  it  all  by  yourself, 
with  no  meddling  nor  helping  from  anybody." 

He  straightened  his  broad  shoulders.      , 

"  I'll  do  it  that  way  or  not  at  all,  little  Mam- 
my. Suppose  somebody  else — even  you — 
helped  me  to  win  her;  it  would  be  up  to  me 
to  hold  her,  wouldn't  it?  And  how  could  I 
ever  be  sure  of  doing  it  if  I  hadn't  been  enough 
for  her  at  the  start,  by  myself?  If  I'm  not 
enough — if  I  can't  make  myself  enough — I 
couldn't  afford  to  have  her  at  all." 

He  rose  to  his  full  six  feet  of  height  and 
stretched  his  clenched  hands  above  his  head. 

"  That  stool  cramps  my  legs  these  days,"  he 
said.  "  I  remember  how  proud  I  was  when  I 
found  I  could  sit  on  it  squarely  and  get  my 


90    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

toes  to  the  floor.  Legs  change,  don't  they? 
But  the  only  way  I  change  is  to  love  more  the 
folks  I  love  at  all.  Goodnight,  you  sweetest 
mother  a  boy  ever  had." 

He  bent  down,  rubbing  his  cheek  against 
mine  in  the  dear  caress  of  his  baby  days,  and 
went  out.  He  never  was  a  boy  to  kiss  one; 
but  he  always  loved  to  stroke  my  hand,  and  to 
touch  my  cheek  with  his.  He  always  loved, 
too,  for  me  to  receive  his  caresses  passively ;  it 
is  only  when  he  tucks  his  close-cropped  head 
under  my  hand  that  petting  from  me  is  in 
order. 

So  he  loves  Caro.  Half  of  my  hope  has 
come  true.  And  here  I  lie,  trembling  with 
fear.  Is  there  any  greater  mockery  than  a  hope 
wrecked  by  a  half  fulfilment?  If  Caro — Now 
isn't  Grumpy  a  clever  imp?  I've  faced  him 
down  and  out  about  the  pain  for  nearly  three 
weeks,  and  shut  him  up  in  the  skeleton-closet 
with  all  the  gruesome  things  I'm  determined 
not  to  be  nagged  about;  and  so  he  sneaks  out 
on  an  entirely  new  tack,  and  flaunts  David  and 
Caro  at  me  instead  of  my  own  spinal  column, 
which  is  his  customary  trade-mark!  But  if  I 
don't  want  him  associating  with  my  own  anat- 


PREMONITIONS  91 

omy,  which  heaven  knows  is  too  depraved  to  be 
further  contaminated,  why  should  he  aspire  to 
the  children's  company?  And  if  David  loves 
Caro,  isn't  that  proof  I  was  right  in  thinking 
they  were  made  for  each  other,  and  that  Caro's 
love  will  answer  his  ?  Sur-e-ly,  sur-e-ly,  sur-e- 
ly,  sure!  Just  hear  her  bird-double  out  of 
doors :  Grumpy  as  a  prophet  isn't  in  it  with  the 
little  red-brown  wren ! 

February  7th.  Milly  came  to  see  me  today. 
Grace  has  been  for  more  than  a  month  with 
George's  mother,  who  has  been  very  ill.  I  was 
lying  here  thinking  of  her  as  I  watched  the 
jays  outside,  and  of  what  Caro  said  when  she 
was  at  home. 

Caro  never  could  stand  Cousin  Jason,  and 
has  called  him  Cousin  Jay  ever  since  the  first 
summer  we  came  to  Bird  Corners.  I  took  her 
to  spend  the  day  at  Grace's,  and  she  went  with 
Milly  and  her  nurse  down  to  the  brook  to  wade. 
The  brook  divides  Cousin  Jason's  land  from 
theirs;  and  the  children,  finding  some  of  his 
hogs  in  Grace's  pasture,  drove  them  before 
them  with  much  laughter  and  little  clods  of 
earth.  Cousin  Jason,  hearing  his  squealing 


92    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

beasts,  came  charging  down  the  hill  in  a  fury 
and  jabbed  his  petty  wrath  straight  to  poor 
little  Milly's  heart.  She  was  always  a  timid 
creature,  like  her  mother,  and,  like  her  mother, 
unkindness  made  her  physically  ill;  so  she 
wept  miserably,  poor  baby,  while  her  half- 
uncle  stormed.  But  Caro  flamed  into  wrath 
as  fierce  as  his  own.  She  had  been  feeding  the 
birds  that  morning,  and  had  jumped  from  the 
stool  by  my  cot  afterward  a  dozen  times  to 
scatter  the  jay-birds,  who  were  out  in  un- 
usual force,  and  bent  on  pecking  off  the  head 
of  any  other  bird  who  ventured  to  take  a 
crumb.  She  sprang  in  front  of  Milly  now, 
ruffling  like  an  angry  wren. 

"Go  home,  you  horrid — jay-bird!"  she 
shrieked ;  "  you  peck,  an*  peck,  an*  peck,  all 
the  time!  I  hate  you!  Cousin  Jay,  Cousin 
Jay!" 

He  stared  at  the  mite,  speechless,  with  pur- 
pling face.  Milly  gasped  with  fright,  and  old 
Aunt  Susan,  as  she  afterwards  declared,  "  done 
choke  herse'f  *mos'  ter  death  swallerin'  her 
laff." 

Caro  took  Milly  by  the  hand. 

"  Let's  go  home  an*  play  party,"  she  pro- 


PREMONITIONS  93 

posed  calmly;  "we  don't  like  pigs  and  jay- 
birds."    And  back  they  went. 

Cousin  Jason  was  immensely  impressed.  He' 
told  me  about  it  afterwards,  himself,  and  de- 
clared that  he  wished  Milly  had  a  little  of 
Caro's  "  spunk." 

He  even  tried,  in  his  not  very  happy  fashion, 
to  be  friends  with  the  child,  and  has  always 
treated  her  with  more  consideration  than  any 
one  else  he  knows.  But  Caro  will  have  none 
of  him,  and  to  this  day  calls  him  Cousin  Jay 
to  his  face.  He  is  a  man  of  large  bulk,  with 
a  face  at  once  sharp  and  heavy,  as  unlike  Grace 
in  body  as  he  is  in  soul.  And  I'm  afraid  he 
makes  life  pretty  hard  for  her. 

When  her  husband  died,  Grace  was  left 
sole  mistress  of  his  estate — which  included,  ac- 
cording to  our  beautiful  state  law,  the  plan- 
tation she  inherited  from  her  father.  But  her 
brother  calmly  assumed  the  management  of 
everything.  Cousin  Jason  is  really  a  Moham- 
medan born  out  of  due  place.  He  cannot 
conceive  of  a  woman's  having  mind  or  soul 
of  her  own,  much  less  rights ;  and  he  proposes, 
in  all  honesty,  to  do  his  next-of-kin  duty  by 
the  widowed  family  fool.  Grace,  I  suppose, 


94    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

was  too  broken  by  grief  to  realize  what  she 
was  doing;  but  in  any  event  she  would  prob- 
ably have  given  way  to  him;  she  spent  her 
girlhood,  as  she  now  spends  her  widowhood, 
trying  to  keep  her  half-brother  in  a  good 
humor.  She  yielded  to  him  absolutely,  even 
to  giving  him  power  of  attorney  over  all  her 
belongings,  and  to  vacating  her  own  pretty 
rose-colored  bed-room,  with  its  private  bath, 
on  the  first  floor  of  her  home.  Cousin  Jay 
never  liked  to  sleep  upstairs;  it  was  too  far 
from  his  work,  he  said. 

He  has  certainly,  the  Peon  says,  made  every- 
thing pay  well;  he  has  Cousin  Chad's  own 
genius  for  money-making.  But  he  does  not 
believe  in  spending  money,  nor,  of  course,  in 
giving  it;  nor  in  being  bothered  with  "idle 
gossiping  women  who  ought  to  be  at  home 
minding  their  husbands'  affairs."  (He  is  never 
conscious  of  a  woman  except  as  the  appendage 
of  some  man.)  So  Grace  controls  neither 
her  own  money  nor  her  own  home.  All  her 
gracious  hospitality,  her  wise  open-handedness 
to  those  in  need,  is  a  thing  of  the  past.  It  is 
difficult  for  Milly  even  to  have  ordinary  vis- 
itors, except  in  the  afternoons ;  and  if  it  were 


PREMONITIONS  95 

not  for  the  child's  other-worldly  beauty,  before 
which  the  judgments  applied  to  most  girls  are 
abashed,  one  would  almost  call  her  dresses 
shabby.  But  it  is  not  easy  to  think  of  her 
dress,  the  girl  herself  so  charms  one. 

She  has  been  telling  me  a  little  of  her  trou- 
bles, poor  child ;  they  have  been  hard  to  manage 
in  her  mother's  absence.  Chief  among  them, 
as  I  infer,  mainly  from  what  she  did  not  say, 
is  the  difficulty  of  being  properly  courteous  to 
Robert  Lincoln,  without  calling  down  Cousin 
Jason's  boorish  wrath  on  the  young  man's  head, 
as  well  as  her  own. 

'  You  see  it  isn't  as  if  he  were  one  of  us, 
Cousin  Lil,"  she  said,  her  soft  cheeks  flushed, 
her  eyes  large  with  unshed  tears:  "  he's  a  Nor- 
therner, you  know,  a  New  Englander.  He's 
interested  in  the  interurban  lines  they're  build- 
ing and  projecting  here  in  Tennessee,  and  he 
really  lives  in  the  city — I  mean  his  headquar- 
ters are  there.  And  when  he  comes  down 
here  to  see  us,  why,  it  isn't  real  Southern 
hospitality  not  to  ask  him  to  a  single  meal.  But 
I  daren't.  And  once  Uncle  Jason  came  right 
into  the  parlor  and  banged  the  fire-irons 
around  and  glared  and  kept  looking  at  his 


96    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

watch.  And  it  was  only  half-past  nine,  Cous- 
in Lil.  That  was  just  after  Caro  went  back; 
and  he  really  hasn't  been  here  since.  I 

do  hate  for  Northern  people  to  think "  a 

tear  slid  down  one  cheek ;  but  the  slight  shrink- 
ing of  her  pretty  hand  showed  me  she  could 
not  bear  to  be  petted  just  now;  she  did  not 
want  sympathy,  but  help.  She  swallowed 
hard  and  went  on. 

"  And  you  know  next  morning  at  break- 
fast I  spoke  to  him — not  to  criticise,  you  know, 
nor  anger  him,  of  course.  I  told  him  not  to  be 
afraid  that  I  would  forget  his  wishes;  that  I 
told  every  one  it  kept  him  awake  to  have  any- 
one stirring  after  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  that 
Mother  and  I  always  closed  the  house  then; 
and  I  said  it  was  only  half -past  nine  last 
night." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

;<  Why,  he  just  stormed,  like  he  always  does, 
you  know.  He  said  he  wanted  to  go  to  bed 
early.  And  he  got  up  without  eating  his  break- 
fast, and  slammed  the  door  and  went  out.  I 
had  to  run  clear  to  the  barn  after  him  and  beg 
and  beg,  before  he  would  come  back." 

"  What  on  earth  did  you  want  him  back 
for?  "  I  inquired. 


PREMONITIONS  97 

"  Why,  to  eat  his  breakfast.  He  hadn't  had 
his  coffee,  and  he'd  have  had  a  headache  with- 
out it." 

"Milly  Wood!  "I  gasped. 

"  Mother  always  coaxes  him  back,"  said  Mil- 
ly, with  gentle  finality;  "at  least,  she  always 
tries.  Sometimes  he  won't  come,  and  then  she 
takes  it  to  him  herself.  You  know  he  has 
terrible  headaches  sometimes." 

"  But,  dear,  if  you  would  only  face  him 
down  just  once." 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't,"  said  Milly,  shrinking. 
"And  Mother  would  never  get  over  it.  You 
don't  know  how  she  feels  about  Uncle  Jason . 
She  says  he's  never  had  the  best  of  life,  be- 
cause he  never  has  known  the  love  that  can  give 
its  all.  She's  sorry  for  him,  and  she  wants  us 
to  make  up  to  him  for  what  he  has  missed." 

"  Well,  you'll  never  do  it,"  I  said.  "  No- 
body but  Jason  Blue  can  ever  make  good  that 
loss  to  him." 

"  Sometimes  I  think  Mother  ought  to  re- 
quire some  things  of  him,"  she  said ;  "  but  she 
won't;  and  I  know  I'll  never  make  it  harder 
for  her  by  doing  what  she  doesn't  want.  But 
I  wish  he  didn't  live  at  home." 

She  kissed  me,  smiling  rather  forlornly,  and 


98    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT! 

went  away,  while  I  lay  here  wondering  about 
Mr.  Lincoln,  whom  I  have  never  seen.  But 
David  and  Caro  liked  him,  which  is  sufficient 
passport  to  my  favor. 

February  12th.  The  mocking-birds  have  a 
constant  fascination  for  me — the  charm  of  a 
complex  nature  which  touches  life  on  many 
sides.  One  can  know  a  robin  by  heart  in  a 
single  season,  and  predict  with  one's  eyes  shut 
the  doings  of  any  one  of  the  tribe ;  but  a  mock- 
ing-bird is  a  different  proposition. 

His  song  throbs  with  the  pure  joy  of  liv- 
ing. It  is  the  song  of  one  in  the  world  and 
of  it,  and  rejoicing  so  to  be;  yet  there  is  in  it 
a  haunting  suggestion  of  aloofness,  of  mystery, 
of  something  beyond  one's  ken.  It  is  as  if  his 
joy  had  deeper  foundations  than  sunshine  and 
plenty;  as  if  he  had  lived  through  pain,  clear 
to  the  other  side  of  it,  and  learned  that  it,  too, 
is  good. 

His  powers  of  mimicry,  I  think,  are  greatly 
exaggerated.  He  does  not  really  sing  other 
birds'  songs,  as  his  cousin,  the  catbird,  does ;  he 
merely  experiments  with  their  notes — a  stave 
from  a  thrasher  here,  a  light-flung  oriole  meas- 


PREMONITIONS  99 

ure  there,  a  thrush  note,  piercing  sweet,  a  bit 
of  the  wren's  summer  trill.  It  is  as  if  he  would 
try  life  on  all  sides  and  look  at  it  from  every 
point  of  view;  his  ear  is  keen  for  the  music 
from  every  throat.  But  always,  through  all 
this  imaginative  performance,  he  clings  to  the 
integrity  of  his  own  message.  One  may  hear  a 
catbird  for  an  hour,  and,  unless  one  sees  the 
blithe  gray  mime  among  the  leaves,  never  sus- 
pect his  real  idenity.  But  all  a  mocking-bird's 
borrowed  notes  are  woven  into  the  texture  of 
his  own  song,  which  wholly  claims  him  as  the 
melody  rises,  sweeping  him  with  it  bodily  up  to 
heaven,  and  carrying  the  listener's  heart  with 
him.  His  is  the  rapture  of  open  vision,  feath- 
ered mystic  that  he  is. 

Now,  a  bird  like  that  one  would  expect  to 
be  a  recluse,  dwelling  apart  in  cloistered  green, 
afar  from  his  fellows  and  from  mankind;  but 
the  mocking-bird  flatly  declines  that  role.  He 
is  a  bird  of  affairs,  friendly  and  neighborly 
withal,  a  haunter  of  men's  doorways  and  house- 
vines,  and  a  public-spirited  citizen  who  rejoices 
to  succor  the  oppressed.  For  he  has  a  fine, 
full-fledged  temper  of  his  own,  and  any  amount 
of  fighting  blood.  He  rarely  seeks  a  quarrel; 


100    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

but  if  one  be  thrust  upon  him,  either  by  ag- 
gressions attempted  upon  his  own  rights  or  by 
the  call  of  another  bird  in  distress,  he  accepts 
the  combat  with  alacrity,  and  carries  it  joy- 
ously to  a  triumphant  conclusion.  And  three 
minutes  after  the  enemy  is  routed  his  voice 
floats  down  from  the  highest  perch  in  the  vi- 
cinity as  if  he  were  singing  at  heaven's  gate. 
He  has  fought  for  all  he  is  worth,  yet  not  a 
feather  of  his  spirit  is  ruffled. 

February  15th.  When  I  can  catch  Grumpy 
and  call  him  to  his  face  by  his  right  name,  he 
always  disappears ;  but  blue  devils  are  so  very 
clever  at  disguising  themselves,  and  at  concen- 
trating one's  attention  on  their  instruments 
of  torture! 

This  morning,  for  instance,  he  hid  under  the 
foot  of  my  bed,  and  kept  poking  up  all  sorts 
of  things  where  I  couldn't  help  seeing  them; 
the  things  the  Peon  and  David  need  me  to  get 
well  for ;  the  things  I  long  to  do ;  the  idleness 
I  so  desperately  hate — for  he  can  make  even 
an  abstraction  visible,  being  a  very  clever  devil 
indeed.  Then  he  held  up  the  pain,  turning  it 
round  and  round,  and  counting  off  the  time 


PREMONITIONS  101 

like  a  clock — minutes,  hours,  days,  months, 
years,  and  never  an  end  in  sight.  I  had  to  look 
out  of  the  window  in  self-defense ;  and  there  I 
saw  a  kinglet. 

Except  the  winter  wren  and  the  humming- 
bird, the  kinglets  are  the  smallest  birds  we 
have.  But  they  make  up  in  energy  what  they 
lack  in  size;  and  this  one  dashed  about  as  if 
his  very  life  depended  on  his  getting  his  break- 
fast in  ten  seconds  and  catching  the  seven- 
thirty  breeze  to  Somewhere.  Grayish-olive, 
of  course ;  but  was  his  crown  of  ruby-red,  or  of 
orange,  crimson  and  black?  And  why  should 
a  mite  of  the  tree-tops  be  so  inconsiderate  as  to 
carry  his  trade-mark  on  the  top  of  his  head? 

I  was  almost  in  despair  about  him — for 
when  you  meet  a  bird,  it  is  of  consuming  im- 
portance to  know  whose  acquaintance  you  have 
the  pleasure  of  making — when  he  took  pity  on 
me  of  his  own  sweet  will.  Perhaps  the  breeze 
was  a  thought  late,  and  he  had  a  moment  to 
spare:  but  he  perched  on  a  twig  just  outside 
the  window,  bowed  his  tiny  head  toward  me, 
thrust  one  claw  up  between  his  wing  and  his 
body,  and  scratched  the  back  of  his  neck  for 
the  whole  of  one  second  and  a  half! 


102    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

Golden-crowned!  The  cunningest  striped 
pate,  red  in  the  middle,  with  a  yellow  band  on 
each  side,  a  black  band  next  the  yellow,  and  a 
white  line  over  his  eye.  Then  he  flung  up  his 
head  as  boldly  as  though  it  were  mountain-high, 
jerked  his  wee  tail-feathers  frantically,  and 
squeaked  in  the  finest  and  most  wiry  of  voices, 
the  astonishing  information  that  it  was  only 
Grumpy  under  the  bed,  at  his  old  tricks — a 
creature  for  nobody  to  pay  attention  to.  And 
as  soon  as  he  found  himself  discovered,  my  blue 
devil  took  himself  off. 

February  20th.  If  I  can't  go  outdoors,  out- 
doors can  come  to  me!  The  windows  are  all 
open  this  morning,  and  my  bed  so  close  under 
them  that  I  can  lie  here  and  stretch  my  hand 
into  the  outside  world,  where  the  lilac  is  rapidly 
leafing  and  the  elms  and  maples  are  all  abloom. 
A  moment  ago  Uncle  Milton  stepped  into 
view,  one  hand  holding  his  hat  and  the  other 
filled  with  jonquils. 

"  Is  you  gittin'  er  little  better,  honey?"  he 
inquired.  "  Hit's  gittin'  spring  time  now,  en 
Milton  wants  ter  see  you  ridin'  roun*  in  dat 
ar  cheer  you  got.  Ef  we-all  puts  er  mattress 


PREMONITIONS  103 

in  it,  don'  you  reckon  we  kin  git  you  down  ter 
de  holler  by  de  gate?  Des  see  what  come  f'um 
down  dat  er  way  dis  mawnin' — dem  holler  jon- 
quils allus  did  beat  dese  yere  up  on  de  hill." 

He  reached  the  flowers  through  the  win- 
dow and  laid  them  upon  the  bed — the  first 
flowers  of  the  awakening  year;  for  the  violets 
are  ageless,  belonging  neither  to  the  new  year 
nor  to  the  old.  I  caught  up  the  golden  beauty 
with  a  gasp  of  joy. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Uncle  Milton!  I  knew 
spring  was  coming  true  before  long!  And  I'll 
be  walking  down  there  when  they  bloom  again: 
don't  think  I'm  going  to  live  in  beds  and< 
wheeled  chairs  forever." 

His  brown  old  face  beamed. 

"Dat's  de  talk!"  he  exclaimed  gleefully. 
"  Ef  dat  ain't  de  Forest  sperrit  my  name  ain't 
Milton,  sho'!  You  look  like  yo'  pa  endurin' 
er  de  war.  You  keep  talkin'  dat  erway,  honey, 
en  feelin*  dat  erway,  too.  Hit's  sperrit  en 
spunk  what  cyores  folks  a  sight  mo'  dan  doc- 
tors en  physicin,  I  lay  my  little  Missy  gwin- 
ter  be  runnin'  roun'  yere  yet,  makin'  ole  Milton 
hop."  He  walked  off,  chuckling  to  himself. 

Josie  brought  me  a  vase,  and  I  set  the  flow- 


104    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

ers  in  it  as  flowers  should  be  set,  lovingly,  and 
one  by  one.  It  has  been  years  since  I  have  been 
down  in  that  hollow,  just  this  side  of  where  the 
road  turns  out  into  the  pike;  but  I  can  see  it 
as  if  I  were  there  this  minute — the  maples 
blooming  overhead,  the  meadow-larks  flashing 
the  white  of  their  tail-feathers  as  they  fly,  sing- 
ing, on  the  hill  beyond;  the  twigs  in  the  strip 
of  woodland  down  the  road,  shining  yellow, 
tan,  and  red  with  the  rising  sap.  The  blue- 
grass  is  under  foot,  soft  and  thick,  and  all 
through  it  rise  the  spears  of  the  jonquil  leaves, 
and  the  swinging,  golden  bells.  Along  the 
fence  runs  the  broad  band  of  iris,  matted  close, 
the  pointed  leaves  already  taller  than  the  jon- 
quils. Cardinals  and  mocking-birds  are  calling 
all  up  the  hillside ;  and  down  under  the  willows 
and  sycamores  at  the  water's  edge  the  myrtle 
warblers  are  swarming,  and  thinking  of  don- 
ning their  gay  spring  suits.  Oh,  I  can  see  it 
all,  all !  A  little  wind  is  dancing  along  the  hill- 
side, and  the  branches  touch  one  another  soft- 
ly, the  dry,  scraping,  winter  sound  all  gone. 
The  wren's  spring  song  is  in  full  blast,  the 
bluebirds  are  twittering,  and  even  the  jays' 
voices  are  turning  sweet.  The  breath  of  life 


PREMONITIONS  105 

is  everywhere,  and  the  joy  of  it.  I  can  feel  the 
wind  in  my  hair,  and  the  grass  under  my  fly- 
ing feet — My  flying  -feet!  For  a  moment  I 
had  forgotten.  But  here  are  the  four  close 
walls,  the  narrow  bed,  the  endless,  wrenching 
pain.  And  I  could  not  walk  even  to  my  sofa 
today,  though  the  Peon's  life  were  my  reward. 
— Eh,  well,  and  what  of  that?  Did  I  not  run 
in  Make-Believe?  And  shall  I  shut  my  eyes 
to  joy  and  beauty  because  my  locomotive 
apparatus  is  laid  up  for  a  few  repairs?  I  may 
be  walking  clear  out  to  the  hall  again  before 
the  week  is  out,  and  be  out  in  my  chair  on  the 
porch  tomorrow.  Love  and  sunshine  really 
are  enough,  no  matter  what  Grumpy  says — 
even  love  without  the  sunshine:  and  here  are 
both,  and  flowers  besides,  and  the  spring  time 
everywhere  out  of  doors. 

February  25th.  Grace  was  here  yesterday. 
She  has  a  way  of  dropping  in  when  she  is  most 
wanted  and  leaving  a  trail  of  sunshine  behind 
her.  She  is  a  quiet  little  body,  never  hurried 
or  fretted,  and  she  has  a  genius  for  discover- 
ing, in  the  most  unlikely  places,  virtues  invis- 
ible to  the  naked  eye.  She  sees  the  wrong  and 


106    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

mean  things,  too — she's  not  at  all  a  goody- 
goody  person;  but  she  keeps  the  wrong  and 
the  wrong-doers  so  entirely  distinct  and  sepa- 
rate that  you  wonder  how  you  were  ever  so 
stupid  as  to  confuse  them.  She's  really  devoted 
to  that  cranky  old  half-brother  of  hers.  She 
is  always  commiserating  him  because  he  did 
not  have  her  mother,  and  his  own  died  when 
he  was  born.  She'll  explain  and  expound  him 
till  you  think  he  really  is  noble,  only  he  never 
had  a  chance  to  learn  how  to  do  noble  things. 

It  is  certainly  a  pity,  however,  that  his  edu- 
cation is  in  such  a  backward  stage.  Robert 
Lincoln  and  Milly  are  becoming  much  more 
than  friends;  and  Cousin  Jason's  infantile  ig- 
norance of  other  people's  rights  is  anything 
but  conductive  to  comfort  under  the  circum- 
stances. But  Grace's  one  idead,  as  usual,  is  that 
dear  brother  Jason  must  not  be  crossed.  He 
takes  it  so  hard,  poor  fellow,  when  things  don't 
go  as  he  wishes.  And  if  Mr.  Lincoln  is  as  seri- 
ously fond  of  Milly  as  he  professes  to  be,  he 
may  as  well  make  up  his  mind  to  be  satisfied 
with  winning  her,  if  he  can  succeed  in  doing  it, 
and  not  be  too  exacting  with  her  relatives. 

Poor  Grace!    As  if  I  don't  know  the  kind 


PREMONITIONS  107 

of  young-ladyhood  she  believes  in  Milly's  hav- 
ing, and  is  simply  aching  to  give  her !  But  evi- 
dently Cousin  Jason's  will  is  to  be  law. 

The  truth  is,  as  I  told  Grace,  Cousin  Ja- 
son is  just  like  Cousin  Chad — though  they'd 
both  foam  at  the  mouth  to  hear  me  say  it.  But 
they've  neither  of  them  any  sense  of  propor- 
tion. That's  why  they  have  no  sense  of 
humor,  nor  power  to  get  their  own  personal- 
ities in  proper  perspective  with  other  people 
and  their  rights.  But  why,  asks  Grace  calmly, 
shouldn't  we  be  as  sorry  for  a  person  born  with 
no  sense  of  proportion  as  for  a  person  born 
with  only  one  eye?  Of  course  the  lack  of  a 
sense  of  humor  is  harder  on  the  kin  than  the 
lack  of  an  eye  would  be — Grace  admitted  that 
handsomely ;  but  in  neither  case  was  the  afflict- 
ed party  to  blame.  And  didn't  one  really 
deserve  more  sympathy  when  his  affliction 
necessitated  his  also  being  a  bore? 

We  fell  to  giggling  as  we  discussed  this 
knotty  pdint;  and  I  was  so  far  converted  to 
Grace's  charitable  views  that  I  had  Uncle 
Milton  get  a  basket  of  double  jonquils  for  her 
to  take  to  Cousin  Jane.  Cousin  Jane  always 
did  admire  my  double  jonquils,  and  somehow 


108    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

her  own  never  succeed.  I  like  the  single  ones 
much  better  myself;  the  others,  like  my  re- 
vered relative,  are  too  clumsy  and  fat.  I  told 
Grace  to  say  I  sent  them  to  her  on  the  princi- 
ple of  sweets  to  the  sweet.  And  now  I'll  be 
having  another  visitation,  for  my  sins ! 

February  27th.  Pitch  dark  when  I  woke 
this  morning;  and  pain  to  make  one  clench 
one's  teeth.  Grumpy  is  not  hilarious  company 
at  such  times,  but  occasionally  he  helps  by 
overdoing  things. 

This  morning,  for  instance,  he  began  about 
the  unendingness  of  things — sickness,  and  the 
long  night,  and  all  that — till  it  struck  me  all 
at  once  it  really  was  morning  that  second,  and 
only  looked  like  night.  Besides,  the  pain  is 
like  this,  often,  when  I  don't  feel  blue  a  bit: 
so  it  isn't  the  pain  that  makes  me  miserable — 
it's  my  own  mood  about  the  pain;  and  if  a 
seasoned  old  party  like  me  can't  manage  her 
own  moods,  what's  the  world  coming  to? 

Only,  sometimes  I  can't  manage  them,  and 
I  don't  know  why.  They  sweep  over  me  like 
the  waves  of  the  sea,  and  trample  me  like  wild 
horses.  It  isn't  often  like  that ;  but  when  it  is, 


PREMONITIONS  109 

I  know  I'm  in  for  it — and  also  that  I'm  dead 
sure  to  get  out  of  it  after  a  while.  I'm  lying 
here — this  racketty  old  body,  with  a  piece  of 
me,  myself,  inside  it,  just  about  as  miserable 
as  such  a  combination  can  get  to  be.  And  the 
rest  of  me  is  hanging  around  outside,  looking 
on,  and  saying,  "  Just  lie  low  and  keep  quiet, 
old  lady.  It's  tough,  but  it  won't  last.  Lay  your 
nose  to  the  wind  and  let  it  howl.  If  it  blows 
you  even  on  both  sides,  you'll  get  out  of  it 
without  being  crank-sided,  and  that's  the  best 
you  can  do."  So  I  lie  here;  and  after  awhile 
the  comfort  of  knowing  it's  just  a  mood 
soaks  in  till  I  can  feel  it  and  get  the  good  of 
it — and  then  the  storm  is  past.  I  come  out  of 
it,  too,  with  my  self-respect  unimpaired;  be- 
cause, no  matter  how  it  raged  inside,  I  did 
keep  quiet  on  the  outside  till  it  blew  over. 

So  it  blew  over  this  time  also.  And  alter 
awhile  even  Grumpy  was  forced  to  admit  that 
it  was  morning,  for  all  the  world  was  drenched 
with  light.  The  long,  level  beams  slipped 
across  the  hills  as  the  sun  rose,  and  touched  the 
tree-tops,  one  by  one;  and  behold,  life  had 
risen — in  the  night.  Every  twig  of  the 
tulip-tree  was  tipped  with  green  where  the 


110    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

great  terminal  buds  had  burst  their  sheaths; 
and  down  by  the  brook  a  fairy  mist  of  color 
clung  tenuously  about  the  willows.  The 
mocking-bird  was  in  a  rapture  of  prophecy  in 
the  maple;  and  the  English  sparrows  were 
actually  housebuilding  in  a  beautiful  hole  in 
the  scarlet  oak. 

Nobody  else  thinks  of  nest  building  yet; 
but  among  the  birds,  as  among  humans,  the  in- 
crease of  population  is  most  rapid  where  one 
would  fain  find  it  least.  These  sparrows  will 
be  rearing  half  a  dozen  families  before  the 
year  is  out — good,  large  families,  too;  and  it 
behooves  them  to  select  their  apartment  early 
in  the  season.  That  hole  belongs  to  the  wrens, 
but  that's  of  no  consequence  to  the  sparrows, 
who  have  the  pleasant  habit  of  taking  what- 
ever they  want. 

It  must  be  owned  they  are  a  hardwork- 
ing tribe,  even  though  their  works  be  evil.  If 
the  fathers  left  their  wives  to  do  all  the  work, 
after  the  bluebirds'  fashion,  some  of  the  broods 
would  surely  starve;  the  mothers  would  suc- 
cumb to  nervous  prostration  before  all  the 
mouths  could  be  filled.  But  the  head  of  the 
family  rolls  up  his  feathers  and  pitches  right 


PREMONITIONS  111 

in,  from  nest  building  days  until  frost.  Nuis- 
ances though  they  be,  there  isn't  a  shirker 
among  them;  and  they  will  drop  their  petty 
personal  squabbles  instantly,  to  make  common 
cause  against  any  bird,  big  or  little,  not  of 
sparrow  feather.  But  they  shall  not  have  the 
wren's  hole  for  all  that — not  while  Uncle 
Milton  can  climb  a  tree  for  me. 

March  6th.  The  blackbirds  are  falling  in 
love.  Even  sensible,  lovely  creatures  are  a 
bit  comical  when  hard  hit  by  the  tender  pas- 
sion. In  its  first  inflammatory  stages  it  so 
utterly  destroys  the  patient's  sense  of  propor- 
tion that  one  smiles  even  when  one's  heart  is 
aglow  with  sympathy.  But  a  blackbird  lover, 
a  sleek,  slick  gentleman,  oppressed  with  more 
dignity  than  an  archbishop  could  carry  grace- 
fully, trying  to  unlimber  enough  to  convince 
his  inamorata  that  he  desires  her  favor  when 
he  merely  wishes  to  air  his  perfections  for  her 
dazzlement ! 

One  flies  to  a  branch  in  plain  sight  of  the 
greedy  black  gang,  gobbling  crumbs  below, 
and  meditates.  Shall  he  condescend,  or  shall 
he  not?  Well,  maybe  she  is  worth  it;  and 


112    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

it  will  display  his  {feathers  to  an  admiring 
world.  He  ducks  a  little,  spreads  wings  and 
tail,  rises  a-tiptoe,  and  says  something  through 
his  nose  to  call  attention  to  his  noble  self, 
though  a  compliment  may  be  tacked  on  in  the 
last  note.  I  know  that's  just  the  way  Cousin 
Chad  did  it  when  he  courted  Cousin  Jane.  And 
think  of  the  laughterless  depths  of  Cousin 
Jane's  soul  that  she  found  it  a  performance 
to  take  seriously!  Things  are  pretty  much 
evened  up  in  this  life,  after  all.  It  is  true 
Cousin  Jane  has  no  back ;  but  think  of  a  black- 
bird husband — and  of  me  with  the  Peon ! 

March  10th.  Rain,  rain,  rain.  I've  been 
examining  my  mercies  this  morning  to  see 
which  of  them  can  stand  the  strain  of  a  three- 
days'  cold  down-pour,  a  week  of  almost  ut- 
ter sleeplessness,  and  a  spine  that  is  conducive 
to  profanity.  The  mercies  look  badly  fraz- 
zled ;  but  they  were  all  right  the  other  day,  and 
couldn't  possibly  wear  out  as  fast  as  this.  I 
suppose  it's  the  same  old  trouble — my  eyes  are 
moth-eaten,  and  need  to  be  done  up  in  cam- 
phor at  once. 

Anyway,  it's  a  piece  of  mercy  that  if  I  had 


PREMONITIONS  113 

to  get  so  much  worse  I  did  it  in  weather  when 
I  couldn't  go  outdoors  if  I  were  able.  It  is 
awfully  cold.  Grumpy  says  it  will  frost  when 
it  clears  off,  and  all  the  peaches  will  be  killed. 
Cheerful,  isn't  it,  when  David's  pet  peach- 
orchard  experiment  is  in  full  bloom  for  the 
first  time?  But  the  peach  trees  are  like  us 
humans:  they  never  can  tell  what  is  ahead  of 
them.  They  have  to  go  on  in  the  dark  with 
such  capital  of  good- will  and  ignorance  as  they 
possess,  and  take  the  consequences  without 
kicking. 

I  think  the  titmice  might  be  counted  as 
mercies  today.  The  other  birds  have  disap- 
peared, but  the  titmice  are  as  jaunty  as  possi- 
ble in  their  trim  gray  rain  coats,  whistling  like 
boys  calling  dogs. 

And  pray,  if  a  titmouse  can  keep  his  crest 
starched  in  this  down-pour,  why  should  the 
spirit  of  mortal  be  limp? 

March  12th.  If  one  be  born  a  coward,  one 
cannot  help  that;  and  what  one  cannot  help  is 
no  disgrace,  but  a  burden  to  be  carried  in 
patience  to  the  end  of  life. 

But  in  my  childhood  it  came  to  me  that 


114    IJS[  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

though  one  be  born  a  coward  beyond  escape,  it 
is  never  necessary  to  behave  like  one.  That  has 
been  my  comfort  a  thousand  times,  and  it  is 
my  comfort  tonight — a  comfort  great  enough 
to  hold  me  steady  in  the  iron  grip  of  pain. 

Coward  I  am,  and  will  be,  to  the  end  of 
life.  But  I  have  not  behaved  like  a  coward 
this  day!  And  now  the  day  is  ended — lived 
through  forever.  And  I  can  remember  it  un- 
ashamed. 


VI 
BEFORE  THE  DAWN 

March  18th.  If  the  outward  pressure  of 
necessity  for  self-control  be  great  enough  to 
balance  the  inward  pressure  of  pain,  one  can 
keep  fairly  steady.  But  a  week  after  the  Peon 
left  on  one  of  those  long  western  trips  some- 
thing came  up  that  made  it  necessary  for 
David  to  drop  everything  and  go  to  Atlanta. 
He  was  detained  there  beyond  his  expecta- 
tions, and  then  wrote  me  he  must  go  to  New 
York  before  returning  home.  He  begged  me 
again,  as  when  he  first  left,  to  send  for  Grace ; 
but  I  did  not  want  her.  At  first  it  was  a  re- 
lief to  be  alone,  with  no  need  for  effort  or 
concealment.  Afterwards,  I  did  not  want  her 
because  her  sympathy  would  have  been  more 
than  I  could  bear. 

It  wasn't  just  the  day's  pain,  or  the  night's 
— one  can  usually  manage  that  somehow. 

115 


116    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

What  Grumpy  did  was  to  set  today's  pain  by 
that  of  yesterday,  and  the  day  before  that; 
to  add  last  week's  to  last  year's,  to  the  pain  of 
ten  years,  twenty  years,  back.  He  applied  his 
recollections  like  a  mustard  plaster,  and  rub- 
bed them  in  like  a  liniment.  Then  he  took  to- 
morrow, and  next  year,  and  the  year  after 
that,  and  built  them  all  into  one  long  via  dol- 
orosa — a  life-time  path  of  pain.  I  might  have 
stood  that;  I  have  before.  But  beside  the  pain 
he  set  the  idleness — this  horrible,  useless  idle- 
ness. That  is  the  killing  part!  He  set  it  all 
before  me,  as  plain  in  the  black  and  sleepless 
nights  as  in  the  day:  and  while  I  cowered,  he 
gibed  and  threatened  till  I  feared  to  look 
ahead  and  dared  not  hope.  And  when  I  tried 
to  run  away  to  Make-Believe,  for  the  first  time 
in  all  my  life  I  could  not  find  the  way !  That 
finished  everything. 

So  I  lay  still  and  silent  one  age-long  night, 
shut  fast  in  my  body  at  last,  the  slow  tears 
dripping  on  my  pillow  on  either  side.  Sud- 
denly, in  the  dawning,  a  purpose  leaped 
within  me;  Ella  should  come  to  me — here,  in 
this  very  room,  from  which  I  could  no  longer 
escape.  If  Make-Belive  were  closed  to  me, 


BEFORE   DAWN  117 

I  would  command  her  here.  I  would  tell  her 
everything:  I  could  not  bear  it  in  silence  any 
more. 

Since  we  first  went  to  the  city  I  had  loved 
her.  And  after  Great-aunt  Letitia  died,  un- 
til she  went  North  to  live,  she  had  been  con- 
stantly in  my  home.  And  after  that — oh,  we 
knew  the  way  to  Make-Believe,  we  two!  Never 
a  day  but  we  met  there,  for  many  a  year.  She 
knew  all  about  the  pain,  though  we  never  spoke 
of  it.  It  wasn't  merely  that  words  were  un- 
necessary, but  that  pain,  in  her  presence, 
seemed  so  small  a  part  of  life.  Nothing  really 
mattered  but  love  and  kindness  and  happy 
human  laughter. 

Yet  she  had  never  had  a  real  home,  nor 
even  a  care-free  childhood.  Her  life  had  been 
one  long  sacrifice  for  those  who  took  her  bounty 
as  their  right.  But  the  laughing  blue  eyes, 
the  heart  of  kindness,  the  sturdy*  sensible, 
joyous  spirit  of  her,  blended  of  love  and  humor 
and  common  sense !  The  children  in  the  streets 
ran  after  her,  and  tired  faces  brightened  as 
she  passed. 

For  three  years  and  a  half  now  I  had  not 
Seen  her,  even  in  Make-Believe,  where  I  met 


118    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

every  one  else  I  love,  both  living  and  dead. 
Somehow  I  could  not  pretend  about  her  any 
more,  after  that  strange  day  when  my  letter 
came  back  unopened — the  happy  letter  I  had 
written  to  tell  her  I  was  going  to  a  sanitarium 
to  be  made  over  new,  so  that  I  could  come 
and  pay  her  a  "  really  truly  "  visit  on  my  way 
home.  She  never  saw  the  letter.  They  sent 
it  back  unopened ;  and  I  could  not  play  about 
her  any  more. 

But  now,  if  I  must  stay  shut  in  my  body, 
she  must  come.  She  should  never  leave  me. 
I  would  tell  her  every  day  just  how  hard  life 
was.  And  she  would  be  sorry  for  me;  she 
would  understand.  I  reached  out  with  all  the 
life  left  in  me  to  draw  her  out  of  Make-Believe, 
now  shut  against  me,  and  bring  her  to  share 
my  prison,  and  to  hear  my  complaints. 

I  turned  my  head  upon  the  pillow  and  lifted 
my  heavy  lids.  She  was  coming  toward  the 
bed.  I  raised  my  arms  feebly,  and  her  own 
were  round  me.  My  head  fell  on  her  breast, 
and  I  lay  there,  drawing  long,  sobbing  breaths, 
while  she  stroked  my  hair  with  firm  and  gentleJ 


BEFORE    DAWN  119 

fingers.  LThere  was  no  need  for  speech:  her 
touch  was  always  plainer  than  other  people's 
words. 

But  presently  I  was  aware  of  a  difference 
in  her  touch,  a  something  new  and  strange.  I 
whispered  weakly,  without  opening  my  eyes. 

"  What  is  it  dear?  What  troubles  you? 
Why  don't  you  speak  to  me? " 

Silence.    Only  that  tender,  pitying  touch. 

"  I  knew  you'd  be  sorry  for  me,"  I  whis- 
pered on;  "and  oh,  I  want  you  to  be!  I 
wouldn't  have  called  you  if  it  were  real,  you 
know — I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  the  world. 
But  nothing  can  hurt  you  now.  Isn't  Love 
so  plain  to  you,  and  the  end  of  things,  and 
the  reasons  why  they  must  be — isn't  all  that 
so  shining  clear  to  you  that  even  my  being 
like  this  can't  hurt?  Tell  me  about  it.  I 
want  to  know  it  is  clear  to  somebody — I'm 
so  far  gone  in  the  dark." 

Still  no  answer. 

"  Then  be  sorry  for  me,"  I  went  on,  dashing 
my  desperate  pleading  against  that  strange, 
disquieting  silence.  "  I've  borne  so  much.  I 
must  tell  somebody,  and  it  isn't  fair  to  talk 


120    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

about  it  to  them  here  at  home.  I've  never 
talked  to  anybody  before,  even  to  you.  I've 
never  even  cried,  never  once,  except  all  by 
myself  in  the  dark.  And  I'm  such  a  coward 
about  everything,  and  specially  about  pain; 
I've  been  so  afraid  of  it  all  my  life.  And  it 
never  stops.  It's  been  years,  Ella,  years  and 
years.  And  oh,  I  can't  bear  it  any  more !  You 
don't  know  what  it's  like  just  to  be  still  and 
suffer  when  you  can't  do  anything.  It  wasn't 
so  bad  when  I  could  keep  going;  I  ,could 
fight.  But  now  I  can't  fight  any  more.  I 
want  to  die.  I  think  God  ought  to  let  me  die. 
— I've  tried ;  I've  tried  my  best  so  long.  And 
I  can't  try  any  more." 

The  words  were  scarcely  breathed,  and  I 
stopped  in  exhaustion,  the  slow  tears  dropping 
on  her  breast. 

Still  she  did  not  speak.  Deeper  and  deeper 
sank  her  silence,  pressed  in  by  that  strange, 
tender  touch. 

Suddenly  I  shivered,  and  my  eyes  flew  wide. 
Her  own  were  full  of  love  and  sorrow — a  sor- 
row that  looked  past  all  my  complaints  to 
something  deeper  and  more  vital.  I  shrank 
away  from  her. 


BEFORE    DAWN  121 

"I  can't,"  I  said.  "I  can't  any  more;  I 
can't." 

Behind  the  sorrow  in  her  eyes  a  light 
was  kindled ;  but  it  only  frightened  me  the 
more. 

"  I  have  tried,"  I  protested.  "  I've  done 
nothing  else  the  most  of  my  life.  Is  there 
no  pity,  even  in  you?  " 

Still  she  gazed ;  and  something  in  her  look 
called  to  something  dead  in  me.  I  shook  my 
head  feebly  and  closed  my  eyes;  but  through 
the  shut  lids  her  gaze  commanded. 

"  I  have  come  to  the  end,"  I  persisted ; 
"  and  if  you  do  not  understand,  there  is  noth- 
ing left.  I  can't  try  any  more,  and  I  won't.  Go 
away." 

I  gasped  as  I  said  it,  and  opened  my  eyes 
again.  Her  look  pierced  and  held  me  like  the 
point  of  a  sword.  I  turned  my  head  from 
side  to  side,  shivering,  but  there  was  no  escape. 
The  dead  thing  in  me  stirred  to  life  and  drag- 
ged itself  up  to  look  truth  in  the  face  once 
more. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  It  is  true.  I  can't  because 
I  won't.  I  thought  I  wouldn't  because  I 
couldn't,  but  that  is  a  lie.  I  can  endure  if  I 


122    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT! 

will — and  if  I  can,  I  must.  But  will  it  never 
end?" 

She  lifted  her  head  a  little.  Her  eyes  shone, 
and  a  smile  curved  the  sweet  corners  of  her 
mouth.  It  was  not  the  old,  brave,  happy 
laughter,  but  something  wiser  and  more  com- 
pelling— the  overflow  of  an  exhaustless  joy. 

"  You  know"  I  whispered.  "  You  learned 
It  even  in  your  life  down  here.  And  to  keep 
on  trying  is  to  conquer,  isn't  it? — even  though 
one  fails  with  every  breath.  And  the  only 
irreparable  calamity  is  to  turn  coward  and 
quit." 

Her  face  was  heavenly  sweet. 

"  I  must  never  send  for  you  again?  "  I  asked, 
like  a  child.  "  Not  to  say  things  are  hard,  or 
to  cry? — But  if  I  play,  in  the  real  Make- 
Believe,  will  you  talk  to  me  there  as  you  used? 
If  I  see  you  there  I  won't  need  you  this  way; 
again.  Goodbye." 

Her  fingers  brushed  my  hair  once  more  as 
I  lay  back  on  the  pillow;  and  then  I  knew 
she  was  gone. — O  bravest  friend!  Not  even 
in  my  own  coward  thoughts  could  your 
courage  be  bent  to  the  service  of  fear ;  to  think 


BEFORE    DAWN  123 

of  you  was  to  find  strength,  even  against  my 
will! 

For  a  long  time  I  lay  there,  while  the  slow 
day  passed  and  twilight  deepened  again  into 
night.  All  her  life  passed  before  me — its  self- 
lessness, its  courage,  its  joy.  No  creature 
that  knew  her  went  unblessed  of  her.  What 
gifts  pain  brought,  what  power  of  helpfulness, 
what  fullness  of  life  and  love! 

Suddenly,  there  in  the  deep  stillness,  it  was 
as  if  the  night  were  drawn  away  like  a  veil; 
and  I  saw  out  to  the  very  edges  of  the  world, 
and  back  into  far-off  ages,  and  on  into  days 
that  are  yet  to  be;  and  everywhere  was  light. 
And  the  light  came  from  countless  faces ;  and 
I  knew  that  to  each  one  pain  had  come — pain 
of  body  or  pain  of  soul — and  because  of  the 
pain  they  had  found  the  light.  And  down, 
under  the  light,  looking  up  to  it,  drawn  by 
it,  stumbling  forward  by  it,  were  those  to 
whom  the  vision  had  not  come.  And  I — was  I 
offered  such  a  fellowship  only  to  run  away  in 
fear? 

The  veil  of  night  fell  dark  again,  but  a 
song  was  in  my  heart.  When  daylight  came 


124    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

I  wrote  it  down — the  song  my  friend  had 
given  me.    It  is  called 

THE  INITIATES 

Wide  at  the  world  their  company, 

Many  the  paths  they  tread; 
Here  may  a  toil-worn  peasant  be, 

Yonder  a  crowned  head. 
Famed  or  unknown,  each  one  must  fare 

Forth  on  a  bidden  way; 
That  which  awaits  no  man  may  share, 

Lonely  'mid  throngs  are  they. 
Yet  comrades  all  they  come  to  bei 

Far-sundered,  yet  one  line. 
They  march  in  this  great  company, 

Deep  in  their  souls  its  sign. 

How  shall  ye  know  them?    Some  there  be 

So  wasted  and  worn  and  weak, 
So  anguished  in  body,  ye  all  may  see 

They  bear  the  sign  ye  seek. 
But  some  in  this  brotherhood  there  be 

Who  in  such  secret  wise 
Meet  suffering,  no  man  may  see 

Wherein  their  sorrow  lies. 
Their  laughter  rings  out  true  and  free, 

Ye  look  for  the  sign  in  vain, 
Nor  guess  they  are  of  this  company, 

Marked  with  the  mark  of  pain. 


BEFORE    DAWN  125 

Thus  shall  ye  know  them:  On  their  eyes 

Falls  the  light  of  things  unseen; 
Their  pain-cleared  vision  sweeps  the  skies 

And  the  hearts  of  men,  I  ween$ 
The  things  that  pass,  and  the  things  that  remain, 

Lie  open  to  their  sight. 
And  that  which  they  learn  as  they  dwell  with  pain 

Gives  strength  to  the  world,  and  light. 
Patient,  and  wise,  and  glad  they  be, 

Rich  with  love's  own  increase — 
They  of  this  world-wide  company 

Who  suffer,  and  find  peace. 

Freed  as  by  fire?  Yet  the  fire  shall  pass, 

And  the  freedom  shall  stand  for  aye; 
And  what  would  be  the  hope  for  the  mass 

If   these   should  shrink   in   dismay? 
So  may  I  cast  aside  all  fear; 

So  may  my  soul  aspire; 
So  may  I  climb  pain's  pathway  drear 

To  heights  of  my  soul's  desire. 
And  there,  with  heart  grown  wise  to  see, 

Counting  nor  loss  nor  gain. 
May  I  serve  with  this  brave  company 

Who  bear  the  mark  of  pain! 


VII 

SPRING  MAGIC 

April  2nd.  The  Peon  came  home  ten  days 
ago,  and  David  a  day  later.  They  looked  as 
solemn  as  owls,  and  developed  a  tendency  to 
neglect  their  business  and  sit  in  my  room  which 
was  fast  getting  on  my  nerves.  So  I  rose 
up  and  put  a  stop  to  it.  You  simply  can't 
lie  still  in  peace  when  your  eyes  won*!  stay 
open,  if  you  have  any  consciousness  that 
somebody  is  watching  you  while  he's  pre- 
tending to  read  a  book.  And  I  don't  need  a 
doctor.  I've  been  like  this,  and  worse,  a  thou- 
sand times,  and  the  Head  said  when  I  came 
home  I  was  bound  to  get  well  crab-fashion — 
going  backward  lots  of  the  time.  So  I  laid 
down  the  law  that  if  my  eyes  were  shut  and 
I  didn't  speak  when  they  opened  the  door,  my 
family  was  to  be  sensible  and  go  away. 

That  was  why  I  didn't  look  when  the  door 

126 


SPRING   MAGIC  127 

opened  one  day  last  week.  I  was  thinking 
of  all  the  Head  had  said  about  backsets,  and 
how,  when  they  ended.  I  would  come  out  of 
them  more  and  more  quickly,  and  they'd  be 
farther  and  farther  apart;  and  I  was  wonder- 
ing how  fast  I'd  go,  once  I  had  finished  with 
this  one.  When  the  door  opened  I  hadn't  the 
energy  to  spare  for  talking — I  needed  it  for 
my  cheerful  speculations.  But,  instead  of 
going  away,  my  visitor  came  quietly  in.  Then 
I  heard  a  little  gasp,  a  soft  rustle  beside  me, 
and  little  warm  hands  caught  mine — Caro's 
hands!  She  was  there  on  her  knees,  her  face 
hidden  in  the  bedclothes,  and  crying  as  if  her 
heart  would  break!  Caro  crying  was  a  sight 
to  galvanize  a  graven  image :  I  sat  up  straight 
in  the  bed  and  drew  her  to  me. 

"  Dear,  what  is  it? "  I  implored.  "  Tell  me 
quick:  I'll  fix  it!" 

She  bubbled  with  laughter  as  she  caught  me 
in  her  arms  and  eased  me  back  on  the  pillow, 
dropping  a  tear  and  a  kiss  on  my  nose. 

'  You  darling !  If  you  were  at  your  own 
funeral  and  heard  one  of  us  crying,  you'd  hop 
right  up  and  straighten  things  out  for  us, 
wouldn't  you?  There's  not  a  thing  the  matter 


128     IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

with  me  except  I've  been  so  homesick  for  you 
all  winter  I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer:  and 
now  I'm  crying  because  I'm  so  glad  I'm  home." 

"  But  Caro- 

"  Don't  '  Caro '  me  and  don't '  but '  me,  for 
I've  come  to  stay.  Mammy  Lil,  you're  an 
accomplished  liar;  but  when  your  writing  kept 
looking  like  chicken-tracks,  I  knew  better  than 
to  believe  a  word  of  your  sprawly,  rickety 
tales  that  trailed  all  over  the  sheet.  And  I 
hate  music.  And  besides,  I  can  drive  the  fam- 
ily to  drink  with  what  I  know  already." 

"  But  Daddy  Jack,  dear,  and  Cousin  Jane.'* 

Caro  laughed  again. 

"  Daddy  Jack  says  he  wrote  for  me  yester- 
day— after  I'd  started,  all  by  my  smart  self. 
And  I'll  tell  Cousin  Jane  after  a  while.  She'll 
have  something  brand-new  to  lecture  us  about 
for  the  next  twenty-five  years.  I  feel  like 
Carnegie  and  Rockefeller  rolled  into  one:  it 
isn't  often  she  gets  the  benefaction  of  an  en- 
ormity like  this,  is  it?  " 

It  had  been  a  cloudy  morning,  dark,  and 
wet  with  the  night's  rain;  but  now  the  sun- 
light swept  across  the  hills  and  up  from  the 
branch,  and  struck  through  the  soft  colors 


SPRING   MAGIC  129 

shimmering  about  the  trees  like  rainbows  in 
a  mist.  The  Peon  and  David  tiptoed  in,  beam- 
ing. 

*  You'd  better  let  us  go  by  and  break  the 
news  to  them  at  Cousin  Chad's,"  said  David; 
"you'll  get  a  shock  over  the  'phone  if  they 
aren't  prepared." 

"  I'm  going  over  there  this  afternoon,"  said 
Caro  calmly.  "  I'm  going  all  by  myself  and 
engineer  Cousin  Jane  through  the  boiling-over 
process;  she'll  be  all  right  when  she  settles 
down  to  a  simmer.  Now  get  out,  both  of  you: 
Mammy  Lil  and  I  want  to  rest." 

She  slipped  into  her  kimono  and  stretched 
herself  beside  me,  holding  my  arm  across  her 
breast  and  stroking  it  with  a  light  touch  which 
expressed  everything  without  words.  Once  in 
awhile  she  talked  a  little  in  her  own  sweet, 
whimsical  way,  and  then  lapsed  again  into  the 
silence  of  utter  content. 

I  turned  my  head  to  speak  to  her  presently, 
and  found  her  gone.  The  shadows,  which  had 
been  dancing  up  toward  the  house  when  the 
sun  came  out,  had  lengthened  all  down  the 
laiwn  to  the  valley,  and  across  it  to  the  hills 
on  the  other  side.  I  lay  watching  them  with 


130    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

that  long-lost  sense  of  refreshment  which  fol- 
lows unbroken  sleep.  Down  by  the  gate  David 
was  letting  in  Caro's  pony-cart  and  climbing 
to  a  seat  beside  her.  Presently  their  laughter 
floated  through  the  windows,  and  then  she 
was  in  the  room  again,  perched  on  the  window- 
seat  by  the  bed. 

"  I'm  trying  not  to  be  proud,  Mammy  Lil," 
she  observed  in  a  chastened  voice ;  "  but  Cousin 
Jane  is  done  to  a  turn,  and  almost  cool  enough 
to  set  away  in  the  cellar.  She's  pleased  with 
me,  too;  she  said  if  she  just  could  have  kept 
Lyddy  from  meddlin'  she  believed  she  could 
have  raised  me  up  to  be  a  real  comfort  to  her. 
Why  didn't  you  let  her?  She  gave  me  some 
outing  cloth  to  make  into  petticoats  for  a  mis- 
sionary box  that's  to  go  west.  Who  but  Aunt 
Jane  would  bestow  fuzzy  petticoats  on  mis- 
sionaries in  the  spring?  But  she  bought  the 
stuff  at  a  bargain  sale  for  four  cents  a  yard, 
and  feels  that  it's  providential;  and  we  can 
put  in  plenty  ourselves  to  make  up  for  it." 

"And  she  won't  fuss  about  your  staying 
here?"  I  asked  anxiously. 

"  Why,  of  course  she'll  fuss;  how  could  she 
get  any  fun  out  of  it  if  she  didn't?  But  she's 


SPRING   MAGIC  131 

fussed  all  she's  going  to  right  now;  and  next 
time  I'll  make  some  more  petticoats,  or  cut 
down  her  fifth-best  winter  coat  for  one  of  the 
little  missionaries  to  wear  on  the  Fourth  of 

July.  Don't  look  so  horrified,  Mammy 

Lil ;  you  know  I'll  never  let  it  get  in  the  box ! 
Now  lie  still  like  a  good  child  till  I  fix  your 
supper.  I'm  going  to  feed  you  myself,"  and 
she  fluttered  away,  singing  under  her  breath. 

April  5th.  Caro  is  in  the  window-seat, 
feather-stitching  the  missionary  petticoats, 
with  one  eye  on  the  birds  in  the  yard.  The 
jays  have  always  roused  her  special  ire;  and 
yesterday  one  flew  to  the  hackberry.  in  plain 
sight,  with  a  little  naked  nestling  dead  in  his 
wicked  bill,  tucked  it  coolly  under  his  toes 
against  the  bark,  and  devoured  it  before  our 
eyes.  This  morning,  in  the  intervals  of  court- 
ship, they  have  diverted  themselves  with 
crumb-snatching.  They  sit  on  a  limb  above 
the  scattered  morsels  where  a  dozen  or  more 
birds  are  feasting.  There  is  bread  in  abun- 
dance for  all,  but  the  jays  love  hectoring  even 
better  than  eating.  One  will  watch  till  some 
bird  picks  up  a  crumb,  and  then  drop  like  lead 


132    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

upon  his  astonished  victim.  The  unfortunate 
drops  the  crumb,  of  course;  and  before  he 
collects  his  scattered  wits  the  jay  is  back  aloft 
with  the  morsel  safe  under  his  toes,  picking 
leisurely.  Caro  sat  laughing  and  scolding  till 
a  little  red-brown  wren  flew  down  and  was 
pounced  upon  in  a  twinkling.  The  wren  drop- 
ped his  crumb,  but  turned  upon  the  bully  with 
lightning  quickness  and  a  volcanic  explosion 
of  wrath  utterly  out  of  proportion  to  his  size. 
The  big  bird,  amazed  at  the  onset,  flew  up  to 
his  perch  in  a  panic,  and  Caro  clapped  her 
hands. 

"Oh,  grand!  grand!"  she  cried;  "don't  I 
wish  Milly  Wood  were  here  to  see!  I  told 
her  yesterday  if  she'd  lay  Cousin  Jason  out 
she  could  manage  him:  and  just  look  at  that 
blessed  wren." 

"  Milly  isn't  a  wren,  though,"  I  said :  "  she 
hasn't  a  glimmering  of  the  wren's  gift  of 
speaking  his  mind.  Look  at  the  wood-thrush, 
dear ;  you  see  the  difference  ?  When  the  wood- 
thrush  turns  on  a  jay,  I'll  have  hopes  of  Grace 
and  Milly — and  not  before." 

The  two  wood-thrushes  have  been  in  the 
yard  for  days,  the  shyest,  gentlest  of  creatures, 


SPRING   MAGIC  133 

ready  to  fly  off  at  the  flutter  of  a  leaf.  They 
have  not  touched  the  crumbs  yet,  but  hop 
nearer  every  day.  The  jay  watched  one  of 
them  extract  a  worm  from  the  soil,  however, 
and  lit  upon  him  plummet-fashion.  The  wood- 
thrush  dropped  his  half-swallowed  morsel  and 
fled  in  a  panic  to  the  black  ash,  where  my 
glasses  revealed  him,  his  breast  feathers  brist- 
ling with  terror,  a  mere  puff-ball  of  fear. 

"  That's  Milly,"  I  said. 

"  But,  Mammy  Lil,  anything  can  run  a  jay 
if  it  will  only  stand  up  to  him,"  persisted  Caro ; 
"  I  don't  see  why  Milly  submits  to  it.  She 
can't  ask  Mr.  Lincoln  to  a  single  meal.  When 
he  comes  out  in  the  afternoon  he  has  to  motor 
all  the  way  to  Chatterton  for  his  supper  and 
then  go  back;  and  Cousin  Jay  goes  in  the 
parlor  when  he  does  come,  and  glares  at  him 
and  looks  at  his  watch,  and  yawns — he's  simply 
insufferable.  I've  asked  them  both  over  here; 
Milly  can  stay  all  night,  you  know.  But  she 
says  she  won't  dare  to  come  often,  or  Uncle 
Jason  won't  like  it.  Not  like  it,  indeed!  I 
wish  he  belonged  to  me — I'd  'uncle*  him! — 
There,  that  petticoat's  all  ready  to  proclaim 
Cousin  Jane's  thriftiness  in  clothing  our  dear 


134    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

missionaries  on  the  frontier.  I'll  make  them 
for  the  sake  of  family  peace:  but  I'm  blessed 
if  I'll  take  them  to  church  to  be  packed:  she 
can  escort  her  offering  herself." 

April  8th. 

COMPANIONSHIP 

Afar  in  heaven  is  Love?   Ah,  no! 

Follow  the  path  where  wild-flowers  blow; 

Store  in  thy  heart  the  songs  which  swell 

From   wayside  hedgerow,  wood  and  fell; 

Mark  where  the  young  year's  opening  leaf 

Answers  the  wail  of  doubt  and  grief, 

And  where,  fresh  burgeoning  after  rain, 

Life  learns  the  inner  heart  of  pain. 

Let  care  and  passion  sink  to  rest, 

Calmed  'neath  wide  skies  on  earth's  green  breast; 

And  hearken  while  the  steadfast  hills 

Breathe  strength  to  fainting  human  wills. 

And  through   this  changing,  fair  disguise 

Know  thou  Love's  voice,  and  meet  Love's  eyes! 

April  10th.  Out  on  the  porch  again,  in  the 
warm,  sweet  air,  with  all  birddom  for  company. 
Caro  has  gone  driving  with  Bob  White,  after 
wheeling  me  here  for  my  own  pleasure  and 
for  the  Peon's  astonishment  when  he  comes 
home. 


SPRING   MAGIC  135 

The  robins  have  a  secret  in  the  seven- 
trimked  maple.  The  leaves  are  so  thick  no 
one  could  guess  it  except  by  their  vigilance 
in  guarding  the  tree.  They  have  made  a  law 
that  no  jay,  of  any  age,  sex,  or  size,  shall 
alight  in  it,  nor  poke  his  bill  among  its 
branches,  nor  brush  it  with  his  wings  in  flight ; 
and  the  law  they  have  promulgated  they  are 
ready  to  enforce.  Dark  and  bloody  tales  are 
told  of  jays — tales  of  cast-out  eggs,  of  mur- 
dered babies,  and  stolen  nests;  wherefore  no 
jay  shall  frequent  that  maple,  "then,  since 
nor  henceforward."  Hence,  wild  curiosity 
among  the  jays,  agitated  caucuses  in  the  pas- 
ture oak,  and  unanimous  decision  to  visit  that 
maple  at  all  hazards,  singly,  and  in  groups. 
They  watch  till  the  robins  are  at  some  distance, 
and  fly  up  to  the  tree  on  the  far  side,  three 
or  four  strong,  while  the  robins,  their  backs 
to  their  threatened  castle,  drag  forth  reluctant 
worms  bjr  the  middle.  They  seem  absorbed  in 
their  hunt,  but  they  know!  In  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  they  are  at  the  maple,  and  no  jay 
may  abide  their  coming. 

Nor  will  the  robins,  after  these  aggressions, 
tolerate  the  jays  elsewhere.  They  may  be 
pecking  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  when  a  jay  alights 


136    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

noislessly  in  its  topmost  branch.  They  see, 
apparently,  through  the  top  of  their  skulls; 
and  one  jay  or  six,  it  is  all  the  same  to  them. 
They  dash  up  with  the  elan  of  a  picked  regi- 
ment, and  again  the  jays  shriek  and  fly.  Not 
a  jay  has  pecked  on  this  lawn  this  whole  after- 
noon, nor  roosted  while  the  robins  pecked. 
Time  and  again  they  have  sallied  in  from  the 
pasture,  and  as  often  they  have  dashed 
squawking  back.  It  is  a  strenuous  life  for 
the  blue-coats:  but  it  certainly  keeps  things 
peaceful  for  the  rest.  The  wood-thrushes  have 
ventured  near  today,  and  a  pair  of  chippies 
have  come  up  on  the  porch,  almost  to  my 
chair. 

Yesterday  evening  a  dozen  mocking-birds 
were  here  on  the  lawn,  singing  singly,  an- 
swering one  another,  and  joining  again  and 
again  in  choruses  that  whelmed  the  grove  in 
melody. 

I  lay  in  the  growing  twilight  listening  to 
them  and  thinking  once  more  of  all  that  passes, 
and  of  all  that  can  never  pass,  when  suddenly 
through  the  closing  dark  came  the  wild,  sweet 
song  of  the  wood- thrush,  the  first  I  had  heard 
this  yesxiU-o-lee!  U-o-lee!  .The  three  notes 


SPRING   MAGIC  137 

form  a  perfect  minor  cord ;  and  at  their  end  a 
sudden  spray  of  rapid  tinkling  notes,  and 
the  song  again  repeated,  and  again. 

They  say  the  thrushes  have  two  sets  of 
vocal  chords,  long  and  short,  and  the  double 
vibration  accounts  for  the  splendid  richness 
of  their  tones.  But  when  those  wild,  appeal- 
ing notes  call  through  the  gathering  darkness 
one  thinks,  not  of  anatomy,  but  of  the  Sursum 
Corda  in  a  church,  and  of  all  the  souls  who 
shrink  before  some  cup  of  suffering  and  yet 
accept  it,  not  merely  with  courage,  but  with 
clear  vision  of  the  joy  beyond. 

Up  from  the  brook  the  song  came,  and  far 
out  on  the  road  it  was  answered:  U-o-lee! 
U-o-lee!  What  magic  fills  the  haunting  notes 
with  subtle  suggestions  of  human  weakness, 
of  trembling  courage,  of  faith  no  suffering 
can  slay?  And  when  they  ceased,  the  mock- 
ing-birds took  up  the  theme  and  carried  it,  far 
into  the  moonlit  night,  to  its  inevitable  and 
triumphant  conclusion — the  song  of  the  victor 
on  the  heights  who  has  conquered  in  the  lowest 
depths. 

April  19th.    Cousin  Jane  insisted  on  Caro's 


138    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

going  to  town  with  her  yesterday,  ostensibly 
to  do  some  shopping,  but  really,  I  think,  to 
give  Bob  White  a  chance  to  take  them  both  to 
lunch.  Bob  comes  out  pretty  often,  and  is  as 
assiduous  in  his  attentions  as  Caro  will  permit. 
I  cannot  see  that  she  especially  favors  either 
him  or  David.  She  goes  more  with  David, 
but  her  attitude  toward  him  is  so  frankly 
affectionate  that  it  is  not  as  encouraging  as 
it  might  be.  He  meets  her  quite  on  her  own 
ground,  and  appears  entirely  satisfied.  Every- 
body, in  fact,  seems  contented  except  Bob 
White  and  Cousin  Jane,  to  whom  Bob  pays 
strenuous  court.  Caro  wrent  with  her  to  town 
with  her  usual  light-hearted  acquiescence  in  any 
plan  proposed.  She  takes  life  as  it  comes, 
and  makes  a  joyful  occasion  of  the  most  com- 
monplace happenings.  But  before  she  would 
agree  to  go  she  made  Milly  promise  to  come 
and  spend  the  day  with  me :  and  this  morning 
the  two  of  them,  with  the  Peon's  and  David's 
assistance,  escorted  me  out  to  the  maple  tree 
in  a  triumphal  procession,  and  established  me 
on  a  cot  in  the  real  outdoors. 

Milly  scattered  the  crumbs  for  me,  and  sat 
by  my  cot  with  her  embroidery.     I  thought 


SPRING   MAGIC  139 

the  others  were  off  for  the  station  when  Caro 
came  flying  back,  pinning  her  hat  on  as  she 
ran. 

"  Mammy  Lil,  Milly  needs  some  lessons  in 
ornithology.  Prod  some  of  the  birds  till  they 
chase  the  jay:  and  be  sure  you  tell  her  what 
turncoats  the  rice-birds  are."  Her  eyes  danced. 

"The  rice-birds?"  I  inquired  stupidly. 
"  Why  should  I  tell  her  about  them?  They're 
not  here  anyway." 

"One  of  them's  here,"  she  said  gravely; 
"I've  seen  him. 

"  Robert  of  Lincoln  is  gaily  dressed ' — 

"  Beware  of  bobolinks,  Milly:  they're  worse 
than  jabberwoks;"  and  she  dabbed  a  little  kiss 
on  the  end  of  my  nose  and  was  off. 

Milly  flushed  to  the  roots  of  her  hair,  look- 
ing at  me  shyly. 

"  He  and  Caro  are  great  friends,"  she  said; 
"  you  know  she'd  never  joke  about  him  if  she 
didn't  like  him.  She  calls  him  Reedbird,  Rice- 
bird,  and  Bobolink,  and  says  that  so  many 
aliases  are  sure  proof  of  villainy.  Sometimes 
when  she  begins  to  discourse  on  birds  before 
Uncle  Jason  she  scares  me  out  of  my  wits. 
But  luckily  he  doesn't  know  one  bird  from  an- 


other,  except  the  ones  that  bother  his  crops. 
To  think  how  he  has  lived  in  the  country,  all 
his  life,  and  never  seen  anything  in  earth  or 
sky  except  crops  and  money!  I  do  feel  sorry 
for  him,  Cousin  Lil;  but  I  can't  feel  as  sorry 
as  mother  does,  because  I  get  so  angry  with 
him.  He's — he's  insufferable  sometimes." 

"Why  don't  you  make  him  behave?"  I 
asked. 

Her  face  paled. 

"Make  him?"  she  repeated  wonderingly. 
"  How  on  earth  could  anybody  make  Uncle 
Jason  do  anything?  Caro  calls  him  jaybird, 
and  that's  just  what  he  is. — Look  there!" 

The  thrushes  were  actually  breaking  bread 
with  me  this  morning;  and  as  Milly  spoke  a 
jay  dropped  from  his  hiding-place  overhead, 
and  managed  to  light  on  both  of  them  at  once 
as  they  pecked  peacefully  side  by  side.  They 
dashed  madly  away  and  dropped  under  the 
beech,  panting,  their  breast-feathers  bristling 
with  fear. 

Milly  was  quite  white. 

"  That  is  what  he  is  like,  even  when  you're 
trying  so  hard  to  please  him,"  she  said.  "  I 
can't  imagine  what  would  happen  if  you  op- 


SPRING   MAGIC  141 

possed  him."  Her  underlip  quivered  a  little, 
and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I'll  show  you  what  would  happen  if  that 
jay  will  just  hang  around  here  till  a  catbird 
comes,"  I  said.  '  There  are  plenty  of  them 
about,  and  a  catbird  stands  no  nonsense  from 
anybody." 

The  jay  elected  to  remain.  He  chased 
the  cardinal,  and  tormented  the  thrushes  till 
they  flew  away  to  the  brook.  Then  he  perched 
overhead,  preened  his  feathers,  and  surveyed 
the  world  with  an  air  of  impeccable  virtue, — 
tyrant  and  Pharisee  in  one.  Presently,  after 
the  fashion  of  his  kind,  he  began  to  peer  and 
pry,  leaning  forward  and  thrusting  his  bill  out 
with  an  evident  intention  to  stick  it  into  the 
business  of  the  first  neighbor  who  happened 
in  reach. 

It  was  just  then  that  the  catbird  came  for 
his  lunch.  The  jay  perked  his  head  eagerly, 
thrust  out  his  meddlesome  beak,  dropped  to 
the  innocent's  back,  and  lit  there  with  vicious 
pecks.  The  catbird,  panic-stricken,  scrambled 
out  and  dashed  to  the  hackberry,  while  the 
jay  gobbled  in  true  jay  fashion,  and  I  lay 
feeling  that  Providence  had  slapped  me  in 


142    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

the  face — an  overhasty  conclusion,  as  our  crit- 
icisms of  Providence  frequently  are.  The  cat- 
bird, after  due  meditation,  came  back  to  the 
maple,  and  delivered  his  opinion  of  the  jay 
in  vitriolic  language.  The  jay,  scornfully  un- 
heeding, flew  to  a  neighboring  limb,  tucked 
a  big  crumb  under  his  toes,  and  proceeded  to 
eat  it.  The  catbird  returned  to  his  lunch; 
and  when  the  jay  dropped  again,  he  hopped 
sideways,  turned,  and  faced  his  tormentor.  He 
spread  out  his  wings  and  tail  and  began  danc- 
ing furiously  up  and  down,  as  if  he  were  set 
on  springs,  not  moving  an  inch  from  his  place, 
and  uttering  discordant  cries.  The  jay  gave 
back  amazedly.  The  catbird  hopped  a  hop 
nearer,  resumed  his  dance,  and  repeated  his 
former  remarks.  The  jay  backed;  the  cat- 
bird hopped  nearer,  and  danced.  The  jay 
dashed  up  against  the  maple  trunk,  where  he 
clung  to  the  bark  like  a  woodpecker,  looking 
down  apprehensively,  while  the  catbird  con- 
tinued his  dance  and  his  deliverance  on  jay 
manners.  It  was  more  than  the  bully's  nerves 
could  stand.  In  another  moment  he  was  off 
to  the  pasture,  and  the  catbird's  ruffled  plu- 
mage lay  sleek  again  as  he  turned  back  to  the 
crumbs. 


SPRING   MAGIC  143 

Milly  was  pale  with  excitement,  her  eyes 
wide. 

"  Do  you  think — "  she  breathed,  and 
paused,  afraid  of  her  own  question. 

"  I  know  it,"  I  said  confidently.  "  Just  try 
it  awhile." 

"  But  mother,"  objected  Milly;  "  you  know 
he'd  take  it  out  on  her." 

"  Isn't  your  mother  going  to  stay  with  your 
grandmother  some  time  next  month,  while  your 
uncle  and  aunt  take  that  trip  North  they're 
planning?  Do  it  then." 

The  child  was  absolutely  white. 

"  I — oh,  I  couldn't,  Cousin  Lil!  If  I  began, 
I'd  be  afraid  to  go  on.  He'd  make  me  give  in." 

"  Your  mother  won't  go  for  several  weeks," 
I  said  easily;  "don't  look  so  frightened. 
There's  nothing  to  be  done  today. — What  a 
pretty  pattern  that  is  you're  working;  let  me 
see." 

We  sheered  away  from  Cousin  Jason,  and 
took  up  the  subject  of  Robert  Lincoln's  perfec- 
tions, which  proved  numerous.  Then  we  had 
lunch  under  the  maple;  and  when  the  Peon 
came  home  Milly  went  back. 

April  21st.    Caro  telephoned  me  she  would 


144    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

stay  all  night  at  Cousin  Jane's,  and  did  not 
come  home  till  yesterday  noon.  I  was  out 
under  the  maple  again,  and  watched  her 
through  my  glasses,  as  she  drove  in  from  the 
pike  in  Cousin  Jane's  buggy,  with  a  small 
darkey  beside  her  to  take  the  horfce  back. 
The  buggy  was  loaded  with  bundles,  which 
she  toppled  out  on  the  grass  beside  me  before 
jumping  after  them  herself.  She  sat  on  the 
edge  of  the  cot,  and  plunged  into  her  tale 
and  her  packages  together. 

"  Do  you  know  what  took  Cousin  Jane  up 
to  town,  Mammy  Lil?  She'd  seen  an  adver- 
tisement of  one  of  those  cheap  stores  down  on 
Union  Street  about  a  sale  of  all-linen  hand- 
kerchiefs for  three  and  a  half  cents,  only  twelve 
to  a  customer.  And  she  traipsed  all  the  way 
to  town  to  invest  forty-two  cents  in  handker- 
chiefs for  the  missionary  box — two  for  the  ma- 
ma missionary  and  two  each  for  the  five  kids. 
Wouldn't  you  just  love,  if  you  were  a  little 
kid  missionary,  to  have  two  whole  three-and- 
a-half-cent  handkerchiefs  of  your  very  own 
— a  fresh  one  every  week  of  the  world  ?  Mam- 
my Lil,  sometimes  I'm  real  fond  of  Cousin 
Jane,  cranky  as  she  is,  and  sometimes  I  want 


SPRING   MAGIC  145 

to  slap  her.  But  I  didn't:  I  just  bought 
some  decent  handkerchiefs,  so  they  can  use 
Cousin  Jane's  for  window  screens — they're 
coarse  enough.  Then  Bob  White  turned  up 
and  we  went  to  lunch.  They  both  pretended 
it  was  an  accident,  but  I  don't  believe  it;  and 
Cousin  Jane  frisked  like  a  rhinocerous,  and  was 
so  pleased  'over  our  little  tete-a-tete,'  as  she  was 
pleased  to  call  our  triangular  lunch,  that  I 
nearly  died.  And  Bob  was — no,  it  wasn't 
Bob;  it  was  I.  I  was  just  cross.  So  I  wasn't 
a  bit  nice — you  know  I  really  can  be  horrid, 
Mammy  Lil,  when  I  put  my  mind  to  it.  I'm 
sorry;  I'll  make  it  up  to  Bob  next  time  I 
see  him;  but  Cousin  Jane  is  such  a  donkey! 
Goodness  knows,  though,  I  paid  for  that  in 
full!" 

She  broke  into  rippling  laughter. 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"  Why,  she  was  just  huffy — awfully.  She'd 
hardly  speak  to  me;  and  I  was  in  such  a  good 
humor  again!  We'd  gone  back  to  the  stores, 
and  I'd  bought  some  lovely  lawns — one  for 
you,  and  one  for  me,  and  one  for  Mrs.  Mis- 
sionary. Let  me  show  you." 

She  jerked  a  bundle  out  of  the  pile  and  dis- 


146    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

played  her  purchases,  her  head  cocked  medita- 
tively on  one  side. 

'  Yours  is  lavender  and  mine  pale  green. 
They'll  have  lots  of  lace  on  them,  and  we'll 
both  look  ravishing.  I  got  Mrs.  Missionary 
a  blue.  My  instinct  is  that  she's  sallow  and 
red-headed;  so  I  resisted  the  blandishments 
of  a  pink  one  that  was  two  cents  a  yard 
cheaper,  and  bought  this.  Cousin  Jane  says  it 
will  fade.  But  that  was  after  I  pacified  her: 
she  wouldn't  speak  before." 
"  How  did  you  manage  it? " 

'  Why,  I  told  her  I  was  sorry  I  was  cross — 
I  really  was — and  I  said  I'd  go  home  with  her 
and  make  Cousin  Chad  one  of  those  frozen 
puddings.  I  didn't  dare  offer  to  make  it  for 
her,  but  she  eats  as  much  of  it  as  he  does, 
which  is  saying  a  good  deal.  She  softened 
visibly;  so  we  hurried  for  the  first  train,  and 
I  worked  like  a  black  slave  to  get  it  done  in 
time.  They  ate  like  anything,  and  I  let  them 
both  give  me  good  advice  till  bedtime;  and 
this  morning  I  made  the  butter  for  her,  and 
we  parted  like  twins." 

I  laughed  and  patted  her  hand.  She  raised 
one  eyebrow  and  looked  thoughtful. 


SPRING   MAGIC  147 

"  Cousin  Jane  and  Cousin  Chad  think  it's 
time  I  was  married,"  she  observed. 

"To  whom?" 

"  That's  a  secondary  consideration,  though 
important.  But  Cousin  Jane  was  married  at 
sixteen.  I'm  already  an  old  maid  of  twenty — 
or  will  be  next  month;  and  if  I  go  off  in  my 
looks,  I  won't  find  it  so  easy  to  go  off  matri- 
monially. Besides,  I'm  flighty  and  bad  temp- 
ered, and  a  husband  will  be  good  discipline. 
And  Bob  White  is  a  very  nice  young  man 
who  would  probably  put  up  with  my  temper 
more  than  most.  And  he's  rich.  And  Cousin 
Jane  thinks  if  I  try  hard  enough  maybe  I  can 
get  him.  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Mammy 
Lil  ? "  She  pursed  her  mouth  and  frowned 
judicially. 

"  I  think  Jane  Grackle's  a  goose — and 
you're  another,"  I  said,  laughing.  "  There 
comes  David.  Call  him  to  wheel  me  back  to 
the  porch." 

April  29th.  Summer  is  coming  everywhere. 
The  pasture  fence  is  a  long  wall  of  bloom,  and 
the  odor  of  honeysuckle  fills  the  air.  A  won- 
derful place  for  bird-babies  that  will  be  soon! 


148    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

For  ten  days  the  roses  have  been  blossoming, 
and  Uncle  Milton's  flower-beds  are  beautiful 
to  see.  And  I — the  earth  isn't  the  only  dead 
thing  that  rises  into  life!  There's  another 
miracle  coming  to  pass:  for  I  am  getting 
well! 

All  this  month  I've  held  my  breath  like  a 
coward,  and  turned  my  head,  afraid  to  look 
joy  in  the  face.  It  has  come  near  so  often 
before;  and  each  time  the  pain  has  snatched 
me  back  and  bound  me  hand  and  foot.  So 
I  said  I  would  never  inflict  on  myself  the 
agony  of  disappointment  again.  But  I  just 
can't  live  up  to  that  foolishness,  and  I'm  so 
glad  I  can't.  If  this  isn't  the  ending,  but  just 
a  blossoming  oasis  in  a  desert  way,  shall  I 
miss  the  joy  of  that?  It's  nearer  the  end  than 
the  last  one  was,  anyway,  and  better  and 
brighter  and  bigger.  If  it  isn't  fulfillment,  it  is 
prophecy,  and  that's  the  next  best  thing.  Some 
day  it  will  come — the  Head  said  so.  I  am 
to  be  part  of  life  again — I!  I!  Some  day  I 
shall  go  in  and  out  again  among  my  kind,  with 
power  enough  of  living  in  me  to  make  hours 
atone  for  days,  and  months  for  years.  Noth- 
ing shall  pass  me  that  is  mine!  It  is  human 


SPRING   MAGIC  149 

life  I  want,  not  birds  and  trees  and  flowers: 
they're  beautiful,  but  they  aren't  enough — I 
can  afford  to  let  myself  say  it  now,  because 
the  other  is  so  near,  so  near!  I  used  to  be 
part  of  life  here,  long,  long  after  I  was  sick: 
there  was  nothing  I  couldn't  help  about,  no- 
body who  didn't  smile  at  me  as  I  passed:  in 
every  face  I  saw  a  memory  of  kindness  given 
and  received.  And  I'm  going  back  to  it,  to 
my  real  life. — Ah,  soon  or  late,  what  matter? 
I'm  going  back!  Though  a  thousand  down- 
falls be  in  the  way,  I'll  make  it  yet:  and  be 
this  fulfilment,  or  only  prophecy,  I  open  my 
heart  to  joy! 


VIII 

BLACKBIRD  DIPLOMACY 

May  9th.  Something  is  dreadfully  wrong 
with  Caro,  and  for  once  she  does  not  give  me 
her  confidence.  She  went  to  Milly's  night 
before  last  quite  her  own  bright  self,  and  came 
back  to  lunch  yesterday  another  creature.  A 
shower  came  up  just  after  lunch,  so  I  lay  on 
my  porch  sofa  until  it  passed,  with  David  and 
Caro  for  company.  I  imagine  things  had  gone 
wrong  at  the  table.  I  saw,  by  Caro's  bright 
color  and  the  high  way  she  carried  her  pretty 
head  when  she  came  home,  that  trouble  was 
brewing  for  somebody,  and  she  probably  found 
David's  sunny  and  unsuspicious  good  humor 
the  negative  complement  of  her  own  sur- 
charged spirit.  There  had  been  at  least  a  minor 
explosion;  for  when  they  came  out  to  me  they 
were  both  making  an  effort  to  appear  quite  like 
themselves.  But  Caro's  eyes  were  danger-sig- 

150 


nals  ;  and,  though  David  smiled  and  his  voice 
had  its  usual  deep  evenness,  his  eyes  kept  a  fur- 
tive and  brooding  watch  on  hers.  She  seemed  in 
the  gayest  of  spirits,  yet  there  was  some  jangle 
in  the  mirth  which  had  always  rung  sweet  and 
true  before. 

The  thunder  was  rattling  overhead,  and  the 
wind-blown  curtains  of  the  rain  shut  out  the 
hills  beyond.  David  walked  to  the  end  of  the 
porch  and  studied  the  clouds  for  a  little  before 
he  came  back. 

"  I  was  afraid  this  storm  would  spoil  the 
drive  you  promised  me  yesterday, — "  he  began. 

Caro's  eyes  sparkled. 

1  You  need  not  resort  to  the  weather  as 
an  excuse,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  want  to  go 
at  all." 

David  stared,  and  a  slow  color  burned  un- 
der his  tanned  skin.  Then  he  looked  half- 
amused. 

"  Caro  must  have  been  having  some  kind 
of  an  extra  tilt  with  Cousin  Jason,  Mammy 
Lil,"  he  said,  "  and  she  thinks  I'm  an  old  jay, 
too,  and  keeps  ruffling  her  feathers  at  me. — I 
was  about  to  say  that  the  sun  would  be  out 
inside  of  an  hour,  and  by  five  o'clock  the  roads 


152    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

will  be  in  the  pink  of  condition.  I'll  show 
you  what  Peggy  can  really  do  in  the  way  of 
speed." 

"  I  told  you  I  don't  want  to  go,"  said  Caro, 
angrily. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  David  easily;  "you 
told  me  you  would  go.  I  couldn't  possibly  be 
mistaken." 

I  was  looking  at  Caro  in  open-eyed  amaze- 
ment. She  had  never  spoken  to  David  that 
way  in  her  life — nor  to  any  one  since  she  had 
ceased  to  be  a  child.  She  caught  my  look, 
and  colored  deeply.  Then  she  cuddled  her 
face  against  mine  so  that  neither  David  nor  I 
could  see  it. 

"Dear  Mammy  Lil,  don't  look  as  if  you 
didn't  know  me,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  little 
catch  in  her  voice ;  "  I've  always  told  you  I'm 
hateful,  and  you  won't  believe  it :  when  I  con- 
vince you,  don't  quit  loving  me." 

"  You  silly  child,"  I  answered,  patting  the 
red-brown  coil  of  curls;  "I'll  never  quit  loving 
you,  whether  I'm  dead  or  alive.  But  I  was 
afraid  you  weren't  well." 

She  laughed  and  pecked  my  cheek. 

"  I'm  well  as  ever  was. — Have  Peggy  ready, 


BLACKBIRD   DIPLOMACY    153 

David:  I'd  like  to  go  sixty  miles  an  hour. — 
Oh.  dear,  I'm  losing  all  my  hairpins !  " 

She  wasn't  at  all.  But  she  caught  her  hair 
with  both  hands,  and  vanished  through  one  of 
the  long  windows.  David  looked  after  her 
with  the  set  look  which  I  had  learned  to  know 
when  he  was  little  more  than  a  baby.  Then 
he,  too,  kissed  me,  and  walked  away,  after  put- 
ting the  stand  with  my  bell  and  a  plate  of 
biscuits  on  it  close  beside  me. 

I  lay  there  puzzled  and  troubled.  The  rain 
stopped  presently,  and  I  crumbled  the  biscuits 
and  flung  them  out  on  the  grass,  watching  the 
birds  idly. 

Promptly  at  five  David  drove  round  with 
Peggy,  his  favorite  mare,  her  beautiful  head 
held  as  high  as  Caro's  own,  and  as  free  from 
torments  of  check-rein  and  blinders.  She  shone 
like  satin,  and  stepped  with  a  proud  conscious- 
ness of  her  own  worth  and  her  master's  confi- 
dence in  her.  David  sat  chatting  with  me  dur- 
ing the  ten  minutes  Caro  kept  him  waiting.  She 
had  on  the  pale  green  lawn  when  she  came  out, 
and  a  most  fetching  hat  which  she  had  herself 
concocted  to  go  with  it.  I  beheld  her  adorn- 
ment with  dismay.  The  lawn  was  more  lace 


154    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

than  lawn,  and  I  knew  she  had  planned  it  for 
what  she  called  a  "  partyfied "  dress.  She 
usually  went  driving  with  David  bareheaded, 
and  in  whatever  garments  she  happened  to  have 
on.  Her  finery  boded  him  no  good;  and  I 
realized  with  a  sinking  heart  that  if  I  had  had 
the  wit  to  keep  my  astonishment  out  of  my  face 
she  would  have  stuck  to  her  first  refusal,  and 
the  drive  would  have  been  postponed  to  a  more 
auspicious  day.  David  was  riding  to  disaster 
— and  I  had  opened  the  way. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  they  came  home, 
and  I  had  been  back  in  bed  for  some  time. 
Caro  came  in  looking  distractingly  pretty,  and 
sweeter  than  a  naughty  child  should.  I  knew 
by  the  lavish  bounty  of  her  caresses  that  she 
had  treated  David  very  badly  indeed,  and 
was  torn  between  a  desire  to  take  her  in  my 
arms  and  get  the  whole  story  out  of  her,  and 
a  wish  to  set  her  in  the  corner  till  she  should 
return  to  her  normal  state  of  mind.  But  I 
remembered  what  I  had  promised  David 
months  ago,  and  repressed  my  itch  to  meddle. 
•She  had  always  confided  in  me  before,  and  un- 
less she  did  now  I  must  be  dumb. 

David,  I  did  not  see  until  morning.    He 


BLACKBIRD    DIPLOMACY    155 

had  brought  Caro  home  and  had  returned  at 
once  to  Chatterton,  sending  me  word  he  had 
an  engagement  and  would  not  be  at  home  until 
after  I  was  asleep.  It  was  after  midnight  when 
I  heard  him  come  in.  This  morning  he  came 
to  my  room  as  usual,  but  his  eyes  looked  as 
if  he  had  not  slept.  I  pretended  to  see  noth- 
ing, because  he  wished  it. — But  what  had  hap- 
pened to  Caro?  If  she  had  been  at  Cousin 
Jane's  I  might  have  suspected  some  mischief- 
making  ;  but  she  went  only  to  Grace's.  What- 
ever caused  the  change,  it  goes  deep.  She  has 
been  in  her  own  room  all  day,  and  I  have 
not  even  heard  her  sing. 

May  12th.  Caro  has  left  us  and  gone  to 
Cousin  Jane's — gone  there  to  live.  She  went 
day  before  yesterday,  and  I  have  felt  too  stun- 
ned to  think. 

She  stayed  in  her  room  all  day,  except  at 
lunch  time,  and  came  out  late  in  the  afternoon, 
looking  white  and  tired,  but  with  that  same 
danger  signal  in  her  eyes.  I  was  under  the 
maple,  and  she  sat  on  the  stool  beside  my  cot. 

"  Mammy  Lil,"  she  began,  with  a  forced 
lightness,  as  though  she  spoke  only  of  trifles, 


156    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

'  I've  been  packing  my  traps  today.  You're 
so  much  better  now,  you  don't  really  need  me 
all  the  time,  and  I  think  I  ought  to  go  to 
Cousin  Jane.  Cousin  Chad's  my  real  guard- 
ian, you  know;  and  they've  been  awfully  good 
about  lending  me  to  you  when  you  were  so 
sick." 

I  felt  blinded  at  first  by  the  blow.  "  Lend- 
ing "  me  Caro — when  she  had  never  stayed  a 
whole  month  together  away  from  me  since  she 
was  seven  years  old,  except  for  the  years  at 
boarding-school!  My  head  swam,  and  there 
was  such  a  roaring  in  my  ears  I  couldn't  hear 
all  she  said.  She  wasn't  looking  at  me,  but 
her  voice  went  on  with  the  foolish  words,  till 
I  pulled  myself  together. 

"  Has  Cousin  Jane  been  trying  to  make  you 
think  it's  your  duty  to  go  and  wait  on  her, 
Caro,  after  you've  grown  up  in  this,  your  real 
home?  She  doesn't  need  you,  child;  there's 
no  call  for  such  a  sacrifice." 

"She  hasn't  said  a  word  about  needing  me," 
protested  Caro.  "  I  just  think  I  ought  to  go." 

"  Are  you  sure — forgive  me,  dearie — but 
do  you  really  think  she  wants  you  there  to 
live — for  always?" 


BLACKBIRD    DIPLOMACY    157 

"  I  telephoned  her  this  morning.  I'm  sure 
she's  delighted.  She  does  love  me, — only  it's 
in  her  queer  way." 

"  Caro — "  I  said,  and  stopped.  We  had 
lived  in  her  and  for  her  so  many  years.  I 
could  not  suggest  that  she  owed  us  anything. 
The  tears  came  to  my  eyes,  but  I  held  them 
back. 

"  Dear,"  I  went  on,  "  I've  never  tried  to 
force  your  confidence,  and  I  can't  now.  Some- 
thing is  wrong,  I  know — some  trifle,  probably, 
that  a  little  honest  frankness  would  set  right. 
But  I  know  when  we  are  young  we  come  to  a 
place  where  we  must  manage  our  own  affairs, 
no  matter  how  we  bungle  them  or  how 
many  hearts  we  break ;  it's  the  way  we  all  learn 
at  times.  But  darling,  remember  that  my  love 
waits  to  help  you,  if  you  ever  want  its  service. 
And,  whatever  you  do,  Caro,  don't  do  it  in 
anger  like  a  child.  It  is  the  mark  of  a  woman 
to  walk  in  love,  and  to  serve  love  only,  even 
where  she  must  give  the  deepest  hurt." 

She  sat  looking  across  the  hills,  only  her 
profile  toward  me,  but  I  saw  her  lip  quiver. 
She  dropped  her  head  on  my  shoulder  and 
snuggled  her  face  under  my  chin. 


158    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

'  You're  the  sweetest  mammy  1  You  know 
I  love  you — more  than  ever  I  did  in  my  life. 
And  I'm  coming  to  see  you  so  often  you'll 
think  I'm  living  here.  But  I'm  sure  I  ought  to 
go.  There's  the  buggy  now :  Cousin  Jane  said 
she'd  send  it  over.  My  trunk  is  all  ready ;  she'll 
send  for  that,  too.  I  thought  I'd  rather  you'd 
tell  Daddy  Jack  and  David  good-bye  for  me. 
Won't  you  let  me  take  you  back  to  the  house 
first?" 

"No,"  I  said;  "David  will  help  me,  and 
your  Daddy  Jack.  It  isn't  time  yet." 

She  caught  her  breath  a  little,  kissed  me 
with  a  sorry  effort  at  playfulness,  and  went 
towards  the  buggy.  I  watched  it  driving 
out  the  gate  to  the  pike. 

Neither  David  nor  the  Peon  came,  and  after 
awhile  Josie  came  out  to  say  that  "  Mr.  John  " 
had  telephoned  he  would  have  to  spend  the 
night  in  the  city.  She  wheeled  me  to  the 
porch,  and  I  was  back  in  bed  before  David 
came  in.  I  was  thankful  for  once  that  the 
Peon  was  away. 

David  went  to  his  solitary  dinner,  and  then 
sat  by  me  in  the  twilight,  stroking  my  hand. 

"What  struck  Caro  to  go  off  again?"  he 


BLACKBIRD   DIPLOMACY    159 

asked,  in  a  tone  he  tried  hard  to  make  casual. 
"  Josie  says  she  told  her  she  was  off  for  a 
visit." 

"  She  went  to  Cousin  Jane's — went  to  stay, 
I  mean.  She'll  change  her  mind  in  a  few  days, 
I  suppose.  She  has  been  upset  for  a  day  or 
two." 

"  To  Cousin  Jane's — to  stay?  "  he  repeated 
in  bewilderment.  "  And  left  you  here — like 
this?  "  he  added  in  indignant  unbelief. 

"  Dear,  something  drove  her.  She's  un- 
happy about  something — there's  some  mis- 
take: and  the  need  to  keep  it  to  herself  is  on 
her.  It  makes  me  feel — oh,  Davy,  boy,  I've 
always  thought  I  was  a  real  mother  to  you 
children;  but  I'm  only  the  best  substitute  for 
a  mother  you've  known.  If  I  were  truly 
Caro's  mother — if  I  had  done  all  I  thought 
I  was  doing — the  child  would  have  told  me. 
You  are  both  suffering  for  nothing — because 
I  failed." 

He  bent  his  cheek  to  mine. 

'  You've  never  failed  in  anything,  sweetest 

mother  in  the  world.     And  Caro  loves  you 

just  as  I  do — I'd  swear  it.     Sometimes  you 

can't  help  hurting  the  people  you  love  best. 


160    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

I — I'm  hurting  you  myself;  and  I  can't  help 
it.  I'd  give  my  right  hand  to  help  it;  but  I 
can't— yet." 

"  There's  no  need,  Davy,  dear,"  I  said 
steadily,  glad  that  the  dark  had  fallen  to  cur- 
tain my  eyes.  "  Don't  try  to  be  anything 
with  me,  or  to  say  anything,  but  what  is  natural 
and  right  to  you.  The  one  thing  I  couldn't 
get  over,  dear,  would  be  your  playing  a  part 
with  me.  I  understand;  and  I  can  wait — a 
lifetime,  if  you  wish." 

He  kissed  my  hand,  and  sat  there  till  the 
moon  rose  over  the  eastern  hills  and  strewed 
the  lawn  with  shadows.  A  mocking-bird  stirred 
in  his  sleep  and  sang  softly  to  himself.  I 
could  not  speak.  I  lay  straining  my  eyes 
through  the  dark  to  see  his  face,  but  it  was 
all  in  the  shadow.  He  rose  to  go  at  last,  and, 
before  I  knew  it,  unbidden  words  had  risen 
from  some  subconscious  depth  and  uttered 
themselves  through  my  lips. 

"  David,"  I  said,  with  a  sudden,  foolish  up- 
lift of  my  heart,  "  I'm  going  to  be  walking 
all  about  by  Thanksgiving;  and  before  the 
year  is  out  I  will  help  with  my  own  hands  to 
decorate  this  house  for  your  and  Caro's  wed- 


BLACKBIRD   DIPLOMACY    161 

ding.  I  don't  know  how  I  know  it ;  but  I  do !  " 
"  Amen,"  said  David  solemnly.  "  Mammy 
Lil,  you're  a  corker  when  it  comes  to  proph- 
esying. Keep  up  the  habit;  it's  sure  com- 
forting; and  you  always  could  see  further 
through  a  stone  wall  than  anybody  else." 

He  had — or  feigned — more  faith  in  my 
prophecy  than  I  had  myself.  I  felt  like  a 
fool  who  has  published  his  folly  to  the  world. 
And  as  I  lay  there,  tearless  and  sleepless  the 
long  night  through,  I  had  no  hope  for  David, 
and  only  a  dull  anguish  at  thought  of  the 
girl  I  had  called  my  daughter  so  long. 

May  13th.  The  world  is  all  in  a  mist  this 
morning  as  the  sky  blossoms  above  the  eastern 
hills.  The  wren  sings  first,  bringing  the  tears 
for  which  my  lids  have  burned  all  night.  A 
cardinal  calls  somewhere — Cheer!  Cheer! — no, 
it  is  a  mocking-bird,  for  his  own  notes  bubble 
out  after  his  cardinal  call,  before  he  wanders 
into  a  thrasher's  song,  repeating  his  notes  as 
carefully  as  "  the  wise  thrush  "  himself.  There 
he  is,  on  the  topmost  twig  of  that  mist-dim- 
med oak.  He  has  tuned  his  voice  to  the  ori- 
ole's carol  now,  but  again  his  own  notes  bub- 


162    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

ble  through.  Now  he  scolds  like  an  angry 
wren,  following  the  tirade  with  harsh  cries 
and  the  blackbird's  censorious  tsck!  Then  he 
slips  into  a  catbird  melody — a  jumble  of  mu- 
sic, jeering,  and  captious  squawks.  Gradu- 
ally the  music  overflows  all  else.  Clearer  and 
sweeter  grow  the  notes,  slow,  soft,  and  won- 
drous pure.  His  head  is  thrown  up  in  rapture 
while  the  flood  of  melody  rises  and  swells  till 
it  sweeps  him  bodily  into  air.  He  opens  his 
mist-gray  wings  and  tail,  spreading  to  the  light 
the  gleaming  white  of  the  in-folded  feathers, 
and  rises  through  the  vapors  to  clearer  air, 
singing  as  one  to  whom  all  mists  are  crystal 
clearness,  all  darkness  as  the  light.  He  trem- 
bles at  the  height  an  instant,  poised  above 
the  vapor-shrouded  earth,  while  his  song  floats 
upward  to  the  heaven  of  which  it  speaks, — a 
blending  of  calm  and  rapture,  of  aspiration  and 
peace.  Back  to  his  perch  he  falls,  still  sing- 
ing, content  with  earth  as  with  heaven,  and  rises 
once  again,  to  poise  an  instant,  to  fall,  to  rise, 
again  and  yet  again. 

It  is  the  Song  of  the  Open  Vision.  Haunt- 
ing, appealing,  alluring,  the  rapturous  notes 
search  the  listener's  heart  to  draw  response 


BLACKBIRD    DIPLOMACY     163 

from  every  memory  of  mist-drenched  dark- 
ness dissolved  in  growing  light. 

May  14th.  The  Peon  is  the  comfort  of  my 
life.  I  dreaded  telling  him  about  Caro,  and 
behold,  he  knew  all  about  it! 

Cousin  Chad  had  been  in  town  and  came  out 
on  the  same  train  with  him  yesterday  after- 
noon. He  couldn't  refrain  from  crowing  a 
little  about  Caro  and  his  dear  Jane — so  capa- 
ble and  sensible,  so  equal  to  every  emergency. 
And  it  was  her  doing,  after  all:  I  know  she 
never  intended  for  me  to  know  it.  But  she 
met  Caro  in  the  road  on  her  way  back  from 
Grace's  that  day,  and  made  the  child  go  by 
home  with  her.  Then  she — to  quote  Cousin 
Chad — "  was  able  to  make  her  see  the  indel- 
icacy of  her  establishing  herself  in  the  same 
house  with  a  young  man  whom  gossips  were 
accusing  her  of  trying  to  capture !  "  The  Peon 
at  this  point  expressed  polite  dissent  from 
Cousin  Chad's  approval  of  his  wife's  tactful 
performance;  and  my  pious  relative  waxed 
righteously  indignant,  and  assumed  the  air  of 
a  protector  of  the  defenceless  orphan.  Where- 
upon the  Peon  took  refuge  in  his  paper  and 


164    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

Cousin  Chad  simmered  in  that  condemnatory 
silence  of  his  which  always  seemed  to  me  worse 
than  any  possible  swear-words. 

But  the  Peon  doesn't  feel  at  all  upset  about 
Caro  and  David;  the  only  thing  that  troubles 
him  is  that  I  should  be  left  alone  again  during 
the  day.  So  far  as  David  is  concerned,  the 
Peon  thinks  Caro  would  never  have  gone  if 
she  hadn't  cared  for  him,  to  some  extent,  at 
least,  in  the  way  Cousin  Jane  accused  her  of 
doing — which  is  certainly  reasonable  enough. 
And  as  to  her  loving  David  and  yet  treat- 
ing him  as  I'm  sure  she  did,  the  Peon  begs 
me  to  remember  some  rather  cold-blooded 
performances  of  my  own  in  our  courting 
days. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  night  after  Jes- 
sie Martin's  wedding? "  he  demanded.  "  Af- 
ter that  night,  and  your  marrying  me  six 
months  later,  I  lost  my  faith  in  a  girl's  'no.' 
If  I  had  it  to  go  over  again,  I'd  not  lose  a 
night's  sleep  on  account  of  it,  my  lady :  and  so 
I  told  David  as  he  drove  me  home  from  the 
station." 

"  Oh,  you  told  him,  then?  " 

"  I  did.    And  I  told  him  to  give  Caro  plenty 


BLACKBIRD   DIPLOMACY    165 

of  rope,  and  your  Cousin  Jane  would  soon 
hang  herself  with  it." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  Not  much  of  anything.  He  seems  to  think 
Mrs.  Crackle  only  furnished  the  occasion  for 
Caro's  real  feeling  toward  him  to  come  to  the 
front.  He's  pretty  sore,  I  imagine.  But  don't 
you  worry  your  dear  head.  Lovers  would  miss 
half  the  fun  of  the  game  if  they  couldn't  be 
drowned  in  misery  now  and  then.  Just  let 
them  alone  and  let  them  get  all  that's  coming 
to  them.  They'll  work  through  it  somehow,  and 
straighten  it  out  to  their  perfect  satisfaction 
when  they  get  ready — and  not  before." 

"  You  didn't  let  it  alone,"  I  said  reproach- 
fully. 

"No,"  he  said;  "that's  why  I'm  so  well 
posted  about  the  course  to  pursue.  I've  done 
all  that's  necessary  myself." 

His  eyes  laughed  a  little,  and  I  laughed 
back.  Maybe  I  was  a  true  prophet  after  all. 
Anyway,  I  musn't  look  like  a  graveyard  just 
because  we're  all  lonesome,  and  David  is  so 
quiet  as  he  comes  and  goes.  And  if  I'm  not 
to  look  like  a  graveyard,  the  best  way  is  not 
to  feel  like  one. 


166    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

May  17th.  Things  are  happening  so  fast 
they  make  my  head  swim.  David  is  gone,  too ; 
and  I  feel  like  an  old  hen  who  has  raised  a 
pair  of  wild  geese  and  seen  them  go  flying 
out  of  sight  in  opposite  directions. 

He  fixed  it  all  with  the  Peon  before  he  said 
a  word  to  me.  Then  he  sat  by  my  cot,  with 
those  coaxing  ways  of  his — I  knew  some  kind 
of  a  wrench  was  coming.  He  wanted  to  go 
out  to  Washington  and  take  charge  of  the 
Peon's  apple  orchard  there  and  finish  planting 
the  land.  He'd  been  thinking  of  it  for  some 
time.  The  only  reason  he  hesitated  about  going 
was  the  leaving  me  alone:  but  I  needed  Caro 
more  than  I  needed  him;  and  if  he  went — . 

"  But  oh,  my  dear,  I  don't!  "  I  cried.  "  You 
are  my  first,  my  best  of  children!  And  as 
for  having  Caro — I'll  have  her  when  the  time 
comes  of  which  I  told  you  the  other  night.  I 
don't  want  her  before." 

"Then  you'd  rather  I  wouldn't  go?"  he 
asked,  trying  to  keep  the  disappointment  out 
of  his  voice.  "  You've  had  such  an  awful  pull, 
little  mother,  and  been  so  brave  about  it:  and 
I  know  Caro  and  I  helped  to  drain  the  life 


BLACKBIRD    DIPLOMACY    167 

out  of  you  before  you  went  away.  I'll  stay 
if  you  want  me  to."  He  bent  his  head  above 
my  hand,  and  I  saw  his  mouth  was  set. 

"  I'd  not  hold  you  a  minute,  boy,"  I  said ; 
"  distance  can't  separate  us.  I've  never  been 
separated  from  you  yet,  and  never  will  be 
while  you  love  me.  It  isn't  your  being  near 
me  that  I  want:  it's  your  emancipation, 
through  life,  into  freedom  of  life.  The  more 
living  you  do,  the  closer  we'll  come  together, 
though  the  living  be  done  on  the  other  side 
of  the  globe.  When  would  you  like  to  start?  " 

"To-night?"  he  said,  inquiringly. 

"  To-night ,"  I  answered.  "  And  the  farm 
here?" 

"  Uncle  Milton  knows  what  to  do.  And 
I've  made  Uncle  Jack  a  schedule  to  follow. 
It  will  be  all  right." 

"  And  you're  going  for  how  long?  " 

"  Forever  and  a  day.     Tell  Caro  so." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  "  I'll  tell  Caro  for- 
ever and  a  day.  But  what  shall  I  tell  this 
old  lady  who  loves  you  so?  " 

"Tell  her  I'll  come  at  the  drop  of  a  hat 
or  the  click  of  a  telegraph,  day  or  night,  when- 


168    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

ever  she  wants  me — forever  and  a  day.  And 
Mammy  Lil — what's  the  use  of  talking?  You 
understand." 

He  pushed  his  head  up  under  my  hand  as 
a  signal  that  one  of  the  rare  pettings  was  in 
order:  and  presently  he  picked  me  up  in  his 
strong  arms  and  carried  me  to  his  room,  where 
I  lay  on  the  bed  and  watched  him  pack  his 
trunk  in  utter  defiance  of  all  known  principles 
of  the  art. 

He  found  some  comfort  in  doing  it,  too. 
His  face  shows  care  and  lack  of  sleep,  but 
he  whistled  a  bit  as  he  dropped  his  shooting 
boots  on  the  bosom  of  a  shirt,  and  made  a 
soft  place  for  the  butt  of  his  gun  with  a  felt 
hat.  He  isn't  entirely  hopeless  about  the  out- 
come, no  matter  how  miserable  he  is:  it  is 
poor  little  Caro  who  will  get  the  heaviest  end 
of  the  mischief  Cousin  Jane's  meddling  has 
produced.  And  that  thick-headed,  thick-  skin- 
ned old  Pharisee  will  go  scot  free  herself.  Oh, 
dear!  I'd  like  to  be  good!  But  it  is  such  a 
strenuous  undertaking  with  Cousin  Jane  in  the 
family :  St.  John  himself  couldn't  manage  it ; 
and  I  never  was  cut  out  for  a  saint. 


IX 

THE  PROOF  OF  COURAGE 

May  20th.  Caro  did  not  come  back  until 
yesterday,  though  she  called  the  Peon  up  daily 
to  ask  how  I  was  and  to  send  her  love.  She 
did  not  allude  to  David,  and  the  Peon  vol- 
unteered no  information.  But  yesterday  she 
dashed  in  at  the  gate,  driving  like  a  young 
Jehu,  flung  the  reins  to  Uncle  Milton,  who 
was  at  work  among  the  roses  at  the  other  end 
of  the  house,  and  came  flying  across  the  lawn 
to  my  cot. 

"  Oh,  Mammy  Lil,  are  you  all  alone?  Has 
David  really  gone — to  stay,  I  mean?" 

I  told  her  his  plans. 

She  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  cot,  her  head 
held  high,  her  eyes  sparkling. 

"It's  a  shame!"  she  exclaimed  indignantly; 
"how  could  he  have  the  heart  to  leave  you 
so?" 


170    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

I  looked  at  her  quizzically.  I  had  been 
feeling  rather  forlorn;  but  suddenly  the  com- 
ical side  of  my  woes  presented  itself,  as  it  so 
kindly  and  so  often  does,  and  I  wanted  to 
laugh. 

'Who  ran  first?"  I  inquired. 

She  flushed  to  the  roots  of  her  curly  hair 
and  slipped  to  the  grass  beside  me,  her  pretty 
head  on  my  shoulder. 

'  We're  pigs,  both  of  us,"  she  averred  con- 
tritely. "  But,  Mammy  Lil,  David  is  the  worst 
pig.  He  really  could  have  stayed:  and  I — 
couldn't.  Anyway,  I'm  glad  he's  gone;  it's 
just  about  the  decentest  thing  he's  done." 

*  You  are  a  consistent  child,"  I  observed, 
stroking  her  hair;    "  but,  Caro  dear,  I'm  not 
accustomed  to  hearing  David  criticized  from 
the  standpoint  of  decency,  and  we  won't  begin 
now.    And  I  wanted  him  to  go  very  much." 

*  Well,  anyway,  I  can  come  back.    I'll  never 
leave  you  here  by  yourself.    I'll  go  back  and 
pack  up  this  evening,  and  come  home  first 
thing  in  the  morning." 

I  shook  my  head.  I  had  been  thinking 
about  it  all  these  long,  lonesome  days.  They 
are  both  my  children,  but  David  has  the  first 


THE   PROOF   OF   COURAGE  171 

right  to  our  home;  and  with  Caro  installed 
here  he  will  not  come  back  to  it.  Besides,  it 
isn't  fair.  And  if  they  will  fight  at  cross-pur- 
poses we  must  all  take  the  consequences  to- 
gether. I  know  I  am  rather  a  dishevelled  shut- 
tle-cock to  do  duty  between  their  clashing 
wills;  but  they  will  have  to  have  it  out,  now 
that  they  have  begun  it.  And  if  that  hard- 
hearted little  sinner  came  back  here,  she'd  con- 
vince herself  in  no  time  that  David  is  the  sinner 
and  she  is  the  one  and  only  saint.  It  never  did 
take  long  for  staying  at  Cousin  Jane's  to  pall 
on  Caro;  and  she'll  probably  see  things  from 
various  points  of  view  before  she  concludes  her 
experiment. 

Poor  little  soul,  she  cried  dreadfully.  She 
even  tried  to  work  on  my  sympathies  by  telling 
me  how  Cousin  Jane  serves  up  Bob  White's 
perfections  morning,  noon,  and  night.  This 
was  welcome  news  to  me,  and  helped  me  to 
disguise  the  very  fluid  condition  of  my  sup- 
posedly hard  heart.  I  must  confess  we  both 
cried  before  she  went  back :  but  Caro  owned  it 
was  fair. 

I  feel  like  a  yellow  dog,  of  course.  One 
always  does  when  one  stands  for  a  painful 


172    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

justice — it's  part  of  the  job.  I  felt  the  same 
shame  when  she  was  a  little  thing  and  I  let  her 
bite  the  red  pepper  she  snatched  in  the  garden 
the  minute  I  told  her  not  to  touch  it.  It  burns 
my  own  mouth  to  this  day.  But  Caro  never 
snatched  against  orders  again. 

And  there's  no  sense  in  listening  to 
Grumpy's  prophecies.  Where  is  the  pleasure 
of  growing  old  if  one  can't  learn  to  distil  from 
one's  experiences  the  essential  oil  of  hope? 
When  the  Peon  and  I  fell  out,  hopelessly, 
desperately,  eternally,  about  six  months  before 
we  were  married,  I  was  just  a  young  thing, 
and  quite  pardonable  in  my  belief  that  my 
life  was  ruined  forever  by  the  cataclysm.  But 
from  the  vantage-ground  of  twenty-odd  years 
of  additional  living  I  should  be  able  to  detect 
the  flimsiness  of  the  average  impenetrable  bar- 
rier. I  don't  think  Caro  cares  for  any  one 
else,  at  least ;  and  if  they're  not  meddled  with 
they'll  work  it  out  their  own  way,  which  must 
be  the  best  way  for  the  Peon  and  me.  And 
if  he  and  I  can't  enjoy  ourselves  very  much 
just  now,  why,  we  don't  want  to  when  the 
children  are  miserable;  so  that's  all  right,  of 
course. 


THE   PROOF   OF   COURAGE  ITS 

As  to  their  misery,  I  have  at  least  come 
far  enough  in  life  myself  to  know  that  it  has 
— or  will  have — its  mitigations.  I  never  yet 
have  been  in  a  hole — and  heaven  knows  life 
has  been  a  procession  of  holes  these  last  years 
— that  I  didn't  get  out  of  it  with  some  added 
capacity  of  living  that  made  being  in  holes 
worth  while.  Why  should  I  begrudge  the 
children  their  own  hole-adventures  and  dis- 
coveries, their  own  enrichment  of  life? 

May  22nd.  The  Peon  comes  home  early 
these  days  and  takes  me  out  for  a  ride.  I 
can  sit  in  my  chair  or  lie  down  at  will;  and 
he  wheels  me  over  the  soft  grass  to  all  the 
places  I've  been  longing  to  see  and  have  only 
beheld  in  Make-Believe.  We  go  down  to  the 
brook  nearly  every  day  about  sunset  and  watch 
the  birds  quenching  their  thirst  before  bedtime. 
There  are  many  song  sparrows  down  there; 
and  the  killdeers  haunt  the  banks  at  all  time, 
whirring  up  when  startled  with  wild  cries,  their 
breasts  and  lifted  wings  flashing  snow-white 
beneath,  and  the  rich  salmon  of  the  lower  back 
gleaming  as  they  rise  from  the  valley  into  the 
level  sunlight  along  the  brow  of  the  hill.  The 


174.    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

Peon  flattens  my  chair  to  a  couch,  and  throws 
himself  on  the  grass  or  sits  on  the  roots  of  a 
sycamore,  while  we  talk  of  all  the  years  that 
the  children  have  been  growing  up  with  us, 
and  of  what  the  future  is  to  bring.  We  are 
both  very  strenuously  cheerful.  And  indeed, 
in  our  hearts,  we  do  hope  honestly  to  have  them 
both  at  home  again  some  day.  Only  it  seems 
rather  a  long  way  off  sometimes;  and  the 
house  is  so  very  quiet  when  we  go  back. 

Sometimes  we  go  back  to  the  spot  we  picked 
out  years  ago  as  the  one  where  we  thought 
David  might  like  to  build  his  home  some  day; 
for  though  we  always  hoped  to  have  him  with 
us,  we  never  wanted  to  rob  him  of  a  home  of 
his  own.  We  had  never  said  to  one  another 
that  we  hoped  for  Caro  to  make  the  home  for 
him — to  put  it  into  words  seemed  to  infringe 
on  their  right  to  settle  that  great  matter,  each 
to  their  own  heart's  wish:  but  we  had  hoped 
it  without  words.  We  go  there  now,  and  hope 
for  it  openly,  bridging  our  separation  with 
happy  dreams,  and  comforting  one  another 
with  assurances  it  is  not  always  easy  to  feel. 

David  has  not  been  long  enough  at  his 
journey's  end  for  a  letter  mailed  there  to  reach 
us;  but  it  seems  as  if  he  had  been  gone  for 


THE    PROOF    OF    COURAGE  175 

months.  And  poor  little  Caro  looks  so  wist- 
ful when  she  starts  back  to  Cousin  Jane's 
that  I  feel  as  though  I  have  been  turning 
her  out  of  doors  for  the  most  of  my  life.  It 
is  really  not  to  be  borne  very  much  longer. 
The  Peon's  sister  wants  us  to  go  to  her  next 
month,  at  her  summer  home  in  the  mountains 
of  Pennsylvania;  and  Caro  will  have  to  come 
home  in  time  to  get  me  ready.  We  can  spend 
the  summer  together,  at  least. 

But  before  I  go  I  want  to  see  plainer  sailing 
for  Milly  and  Bobolink,  as  Caro  disrespect- 
fully styles  Mr.  Lincoln.  Grace  was  here  for 
a  little  while  today  to  tell  me  good-bye.  She 
is  off  to  stay  with  George's  mother  while  the 
old  lady's  daughter  takes  a  trip.  Milly  was 
with  her,  and  promised  to  come  back  soon.  She 
said  she  wanted  to  talk  to  me,  and  from  the 
anxious  air  with  which  she  said  it,  I'm  hoping 
she  is  seriously  thinking  of  turning  on  that 
jay-bird  uncle  of  hers  and  teaching  him  a  few 
of  the  things  he  needs  to  learn. 

May  25th.  A  golden  day,  after  a  night  of 
drenching  rain.  The  sky  is  like  October,  and 
under  it  the  winds  are  at  play.  And  why, 
when  sunshine  fills  the  world,  should  one  suffer 


176    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

one's  eyes  to  be  blinded  to  it  by  any  mote  of 
pain  or  trouble  held  close  enough  to  shut  out 
all  the  light?  I  will  keep  mine  at  arm's  length, 
if  I  die  for  it,  and  see  around  it  and  over  it, 
yes,  and  through  it,  into  this  beautiful,  won- 
derful world!  If  one's  feet  can't  travel,  aren't 
one's  eyes  an  open  road  of  escape? 

May  27th.  Three  sleepless  nights,  a  dead 
weight  of  weariness,  loneliness  to  the  heart's 
core,  and  pain  that  wrings  the  flesh — these 
are  among  Grumpy's  stock-in-trade  this  morn- 
ing, and  he  flaunts  them  and  a  dozen  other 
things,  wherever  I  turn  my  thoughts.  He 
has  heaped  up,  mountain  high,  the  things  I 
want  and  can't  have;  and  there  he  sits,  grin- 
ning at  the  void  they  leave  in  my  idle,  useless 
life.  I  must  fill  that  hole,  or  go  under.  What 
have  I  left? 

First,  the  Peon's  love,  and  the  children's, 
and  that  of  my  friends.  Love :  and  the  Love 
from  which  love  came.  By  the  time  all  that  is 
stowed  away  in  the  void,  it  has  rather  a  "gone" 
look  about  it — for  a  void.  And  Grumpy's 
grin  has  a  tuck  in  it. 

Then  a  sense  of  humor — the  most  blessed 


THE   PROOF   OF    COURAGE  177 

thing,  save  love  itself,  ever  given  to  human 
kind.  It  keeps  one  sane  and  balanced  where 
without  it  one  would  go  mad.  A  source  of 
justice  it  is,  a  bond  of  sympathy,  a  destroyer 
of  egotism,  a  solace  in  suffering,  a  staff  to 
courage,  an  open  door  of  escape  from  all  that 
is  unbearable  in  life. 

Next,  the  power  to  hold  my  tongue  when 
things  hurt,  and  to  keep  the  whine  out  of  my 
voice  when  I'm  nothing  but  whine  inside. 

There  are  love,  laughter,  and  silence ;  and  as 
void-fillers  they  go  a  long  way.  But  there  are 
other  things  for  the  chinks.  For  I  can  read 
a  little  and  write  a  little,  and  think  a  little, 
as  against  the  black  idleness  of  those  three 
years,  And  beauty — wind  in  the  treetops,  the 
arching  blue,  the  flicker  of  light  and  shade — 
beauty  everywhere,  in  fact ;  and  back  of  beau- 
ty the  Thought  that  designed  both  it  and  the 
eyes  to  see  it.  Oh,  it  is  a  beautiful  world! 
And  though  one's  body  lies  idle,  one's  thoughts 
may  go  everywhere,  and  are  everywhere  at 
home.  And  may  not  endurance  itself,  how- 
ever passive,  yet  rise  to  the  point  of  achieve- 
ment, if  only  one  endure  in  the  right  way? 
And  if  liberty  be  measured  by  one's  capacity 


178    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

to  do  without — oh,  how  can  any  walls  of  suf- 
fering shut  one  in  when  the  way  up  is  always 
open — up,  to  the  presence  of  God? 

May  28th..  Whenever  I  think  I've  over- 
come a  temptation,  and  can  afford  to  rest, 
something  else  comes  pouncing  and  catches  me 
napping.  This  time  it  was  Cousin  Jane.  I'm 
not  a  bit  sorry  I  sent  her  home — it  was  high 
time  for  her  to  go.  But  I  needn't  have  been 
so  blazing  mad  when  I  did  it. 

She  hasn't  been  near  me  for  ages,  but  she 
came  at  last,  exactly  when  she  very  specially 
should  have  kept  away.  So  as  I  lay  there  on 
the  porch  sofa — for  I  couldn't  get  out  in  the 
yard  this  week — I  heard  the  familiar  pile- 
driver  tread,  and  opened  my  eyes  to  behold  her 
at  the  corner  of  the  porch,  personified  virtue, 
somewhat  overheated  by  the  afternoon  sun, 
and  looking  rather  limp  about  the  collar.  But 
there  was  nothing  limp  about  her  stolid  mouth, 
nor  in  her  hard  black  eyes.  She  had  come  for 
a  purpose,  and  was  not  displeased  to  think  I 
wouldn't  enjoy  it. 

I've  been  afraid  of  Cousin  Jane  all  my  life. 
I  used  to  run  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  when 


THE   PROOF   OF   COURAGE  179 

I  was  a  child  at  Cedarhurst.  More  than  once 
I  have  been  gently,  but  firmly,  extracted  from 
a  closet  by  Great-aunt  Letitia,  and  led  to  her 
presence  to  perform  the  rites  required  by  po- 
liteness to  even  the  most  unpleasant  kin.  Some- 
how it  all  came  back  to  me — the  childish,  un- 
reasoning fear.  I  was  so  weak,  the  pain  so 
biting  sharp ;  I  could  not  bear  unkindness,  too. 
I  turned  my  head  toward  the  long  windows 
with  a  wild  thought  of  escape;  but  when  my 
heart  is  like  this,  I  can  scarcely  walk,  and  I 
could  never  have  reached  my  room.  Besides, 
she  would  come  after  me:  so  I  made  a  virtue 
of  necessity  and  lifted  my  hand.  She  saved 
me  the  trouble  of  speaking. 

"  Good  land  alive,  Lyddy !  Are  you  mopin' 
around  yet,  makin'  out  like  you're  half  dead? 
I  wonder  John  Bird  doesn't  go  crazy !  I  heard 
you  were  rompin'  all  over  the  place,  throwin' 
the  birds  enough  biscuit  to  feed  all  the  poor 
folks  in  town,  if  you  only  had  religion  enough 
to  think  about  them  instead  of  your  own  silly 
whims." 

She  came  close  and  settled  herself  heavily 
in  the  Peon's  chair,  waving  her  fan  vigorously. 
She  reached  across  me  to  the  stand  on  the 


180    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

other  side,  and  rang  my  bell  sharply.  Josie 
appeared  at  once. 

"  Go  draw  me  some  fresh  water,  straight 
out  of  the  well,"  she  commanded.  It  was 
one  of  her  hobbies  to  ignore  the  Peon's  water 
system,  and  to  assume  that  we  depended  on 
a  well  and  a  windlass,  as  she  boasted  that  she 
still  did  herself. 

;<  Wouldn't  you  rather  have  a  glass  of  lem- 
onade ? "  I  inquired.  "  And  bring  some  wafers, 
Josie." 

Josie's  mother  makes  wonderful  old-time 
wafers,  as  thin  as  paper  and  as  crisp  as  frosty 
air.  They  are  beautifully  rolled,  and  melt  in 
one's  mouth:  no  other  cook  in  the  county  can 
achieve  them.  Cousin  Jane  ate  the  entire 
plateful,  and  her  manner,  as  she  turned  to  me 
once  more,  was  a  shade  less  like  that  of  a 
regiment  charging  a  redoubt. 

"What  did  David  go  off  for?"  she  de- 
manded. "  Have  you  and  John  Bird  turned 
him  loose?  I  can't  get  a  thing  out  of  Caro- 
line, and  I  know  something's  wrong  some- 
where. What  is  it?  " 

"  He  went  to  look  after  some  business,"  I 
said. 


THE   PROOF   OF   COURAGE  181 

"  Oh,  you  can  tell  that  to  the  neighbors  that 
ain't  kin,"  she  said  scornfully.  "  I  want  to 
know  what's  wrong.  He's  done  somethin,'  I 
know,  an'  Caroline's  ashamed  of  it.  I  can't 
get  a  thing  out  of  her,  but  she's  a  changed 
girl.  An'  more  than  that,  she's  standin'  in 
her  own  light.  She's  that  flighty  an'  cross 
Bob  White  looks  like  he  don't  know  what  to 
make  of  it.  Men  ain't  going'  to  stand  too 
much  foolishness,  an'  first  news  you  know, 
Caroline  can't  get  him  if  she  wants  him.  I'm 
talkin'  plain,  but  it's  time." 

"Why  don't  you  talk  to  Caro?"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"  Good  land,  Lyddy,  do  you  reckon  I  ain't? 
But  it's  like  water  on  a  duck's  back — in  one 
ear  and  out  the  other.  An'  besides  " — with  a 
sudden  deep  craft  in  her  beady  eyes — "  you 
have  to  be  careful  with  girls — at  least,  a  person 
with  tact  does.  I  don't  come  right  out  with 
things  to  Caroline,  like  you  would.  But  I 
just  thought  I'd  get  together  all  the  things 
David's  been  doin'  an'  lay  'em  before  her.  I 
don't  suppose  you  let  her  know  the  half  of  it, 
whatever  it  was.  Was  it  somethin'  about 
money,  or  has  he  been  getting  into  fast  ways, 


182    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

drinkin,'  or  playin'  cards,  or — worse?  I  always 
knew  he  would  get  into  mischief  sooner  or 
later — he  pretends  to  be  so  steady:  I've  just 
been  waitin'  for  it  to  come.  Why,  what's 
the  matter,  Lyddy?  What  do  you  want? " 

I  sat  straight  up  and  rang  the  bell.  Josie 
ran  out. 

"  Get  me  my  chair,  Josie,  quick,"  I  said. 
She  whirled  it  to  my  side,  and  I  stepped  in 
unaided. 

'  Take  me  to  my  room,"  I  told  her,  "  and 
leave  me  there  while  you  tell  Uncle  Milton 
to  get  Mrs.  Grackle's  buggy  and  to  open  the 
gate  for  her.  She  is  going  home  at  once. 
Then  come  back  and  help  me  to  bed.  Do 
not  come  back  until  I  send  for  you,  Cousin 
Jane:  I  am  not  well." 

She  stared  at  me,  speechless  and  apop- 
lectic, and  as  Josie  arranged  my  pillows  I  saw 
her  driving  between  the  cedars.  And  above 
all  my  anger  about  David  and  my  conscious- 
ness that  Great-aunt  Letitia  would  be  ashamed 
of  me,  above  the  weakness,  and  above  the  tear- 
ing, throbbing  pain,  is  the  exhilaration  of 
knowing  that  for  once  in  my  life  I  wasn't 
afraid  of  Cousin  Jane.  I  never  will  be  afraid 
of  her  again ! 


THE   PROOF   OF    COURAGE  183 

May  31st.  Trying  all  one's  life  to  see  things 
from  other  peoples'  point  of  view  has  this  ad- 
vantage in  sickness :  it  helps  one  to  stand  apart 
from  the  suffering  and  to  look  at  it  from 
without,  even  when  whelmed  in  it,  and  almost 
overwhelmed.  One  sees  it  as  if  it  were  some- 
one else's  sickness,  taking  the  long  view  of  it, 
as  a  doctor  does.  He  is  sorry  for  the  pain,  of 
course;  he  knows  it  is  bad.  But  he  expects 
it.  And  he  expects  the  backsets,  and  the  blues, 
and  the  can-I-ever-get-wells,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  Those  things  are  part  of  the  process  of 
recovery,  and  do  not  affect  the  final  outcome. 
Once  past  a  certain  point,  the  road  leads 
inevitably  to  one  sure  goal;  the  windings  in 
and  out  don't  count,  nor  the  ups  and  downs ; 
one  is  advancing  all  the  time.  Now,  if  a  doctor, 
who  doesn't  need  it,  can  get  that  comfort  out 
of  my  aches  and  pains,  why  shouldn't  I  get 
it,  who  need  it  so  much? 

June  1st.  Out  under  the  maple  again  today, 
and  the  stars  in  their  courses  fighting  for  me! 
And  why,  when  a  miracle  like  this  happens 
for  Milly  and  Bobolink,  should  I  despair  of 
David  and  Caro? 

Milly  came  to  see  me  to  have  that  long 


184    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

talk  she  spoke  about.  She  had  been  telephon- 
ing every  day  to  know  when  she  could  come, 
so  I  had  Josie  call  her  the  moment  I  found 
I  could  go  out.  And  just  suppose  I  had  been 
well  enough  yesterday — what  a  misfortune 
that  would  have  been! 

She  scatttered  the  crumbs  for  me,  and  set- 
tled beside  me  to  pour  out  what  Caro  calls 
"  her  uncle-ish  woes ;"  and  while  she  was  doing 
it,  the  wood-thrush  flew  down,  only  to  be 
shouldered  away  from  the  feast  by  a  manner- 
less jay.  Somehow  it  made  me  feel  perfectly 
hopeless  about  Milly,  poor  little  soft,  sweet 
thing,  and  my  eyes  rilled  up  with  tears;  but 
when  I  had  winked  them  dry,  the  thrush  went 
back.  The  jay  pecked  at  him  savagely,  and 
he  dashed  half-way  round  the  hydrangeas  in 
terror.  Milly  saw  him  and  caught  her  breath. 

"  Uncle  Jason  is  like  that,"  she  said,  with 
a  little  catch  in  her  voice ;  "  and  I  can't  stand 
against  him — I  can't !  Don't  you  see  how  help- 
less the  thrush  is,  Cousin  Lil?" 

But  the  thrush  had  stopped  in  mid-flight. 
His  breast  was  puffed  out  like  a  tiny  balloon, 
the  trembling  of  his  legs  plain  to  be  seen; 
he  quivered  from  head  to  foot.  But  he  turned 


THE   PROOF   OP   COURAGE  185 

slowly,  his  legs  shaking  under  him,  and  hopped 
deliberately  toward  his  tormentor,  his  head 
high,  his  swollen  breast  making  a  ruff  of  feath- 
ers visible  on  either  side  of  his  back.  He  went 
close  to  the  jay  and  pecked  toward  him  in 
the  air.  The  jay,  startled,  gave  back  an  inch. 
The  thrush,  still  trembling,  hopped  nearer  and 
pecked,  as  steadily  as  if  his  legs  were  in  their 
normal  condition.  The  bully  backed  again. 
The  thrush  hopped  and  pecked. 

Milly  had  leaned  forward,  her  hand  on  mine. 
Her  face  was  white  and  she  was  breathing 
quickly. 

The  jay  continued  to  back.  The  wood- 
thrush  followed  him,  inch  by  inch,  unyielding, 
yet  in  mortal  fear.  At  last  the  big  coward 
could  stand  it  no  longer.  He  spread  his  wings 
and  vanished  across  the  brook.  The  thrush 
stood  trembling  a  moment,  his  feathers  slowly 
flattening  along  his  sides,  and  then  returned 
quietly  to  his  lunch.  Milly  rose,  a  new  light 
in  her  soft  eyes. 

"  If  he  can,  I  can,"  she  said  steadily.  "  I 
don't  need  to  talk  any  more,  Cousin  Lil:  I'm 
going  home  and  do" 


X 

THE  ROUTING  OF  UNCLE  JASON 

June  2nd.  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  inherited 
the  family  grace  of  hospitality ;  for  the  further 
I  get  from  Cousin  Jane's  visit  the  more  glad 
I  am  that  I  sent  her  home.  And  it  isn't  all  on 
David's  account  either,  though  I  could  never 
have  done  it  but  for  what  she  said  of  him.  Yet 
since  it  is  done  I  remember  her  lifetime  dis- 
regard of  the  small  courtesies  of  life.  I  wonder 
if  it  were  not  more  cowardice  in  me  than 
kindness  that  for  so  long  I  meekly  allowed 
it,  and  thereby  encouraged  her,  so  far  as  lay 
in  my  power,  to  ride  rough-shod  over  all  the 
rules  of  politeness. 

I  do  believe  that  decent  manners,  even  to 
one's  junior  kinfolks,  are  an  essential  part  of 
decent  morals;  one  can  commit  as  dastardly 
crimes  with  an  ill-tempered  tongue  as  with 
a  lying  one.  And  what  right  has  she  to  plume 
herself  on  her  frankness,  as  if  that  were  a 

186 


UNCLE  JASON  187 

justification  for  such  ill  manners  as  cut  the 
joy  and  fellowship  of  life  at  the  root?  I  think 
our  ideas  of  morals  need  standardizing,  at 
least  to  the  point  where  we  can  no  longer,  by 
bad  temper  and  worse  behavior,  inflict  misery 
at  will  on  those  about  us,  sowing  on  every 
side  the  seeds  of  anger  or  contempt,  and  yet 
remain  a  highly  respected  member  of  society 
and  a  shining  light  in  the  church. — Yet,  after 
all,  I'm  making  a  deal  of  a  pother  about  trifles. 
It  is  what  we  do  ourselves  that  counts,  not 
what  is  done  to  us.  In  the  face  of  the  void, 
at  the  land's  end,  the  hurts  one  has  suffered 
will  disappear;  it  is  the  hurts  one  has  inflicted 
that  will  be  lions  in  the  way.  And  if  I  have 
really  hurt  Cousin  Jane — well,  when  I'm  a 
little  stronger  I'll  try  my  best  to  get  straight 
with  her.  For  the  present,  I  am  here  in  bed 
again,  with  the  birds  outside  for  company — 
and  a  visit  from  Caro  to  look  forward  to.  She 
telephoned  a  while  ago  that  she  had  been 
spending  the  night  with  Milly  and  would  be 
over  before  lunch.  So  Cousin  Jason  hasn't 
annihilated  the  child,  at  least. 

June  3rd.    Milly  really  did  go  home  and 


188    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

begin.  She  went  by  for  Caro  yesterday  after- 
noon on  her  way  home,  and  they  found  Cousin 
Jason  in  a  thunderous  mood.  Milly  was  quiet- 
ly determined.  He  had  left  the  breakfast 
table  that  morning  in  a  temper,  after  his 
frequent  fashion:  and  Milly,  in  her  brand- 
new  fashion,  had  refrained  from  running  after 
him  and  imploring  him  to  have  pity  on  his 
poor  head,  and  drink  his  coffee.  He  had  fumed 
around  on  the  porches  for  some  time,  waiting 
for  her  to  take  her  cue,  and  had  finally  dis- 
appeared. He  came  back  at  eleven  with  a 
headache,  slamming  all  the  doors,  notwith- 
standing, and  demanded  hot  coffee  at  once. 
Milly,  however,  had  forseen  this  contingency 
and  prepared  for  it.  The  cook's  daughter  was 
ill,  and  she  had  allowed  her  to  go  down  there 
as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over  and  stay  until 
time  to  cook  dinner.  It  was  the  housemaid's 
regular  day  off,  and  she  had  already  departed, 
not  to  return  until  the  late  afternoon.  As 
Uncle  Jason  had  ordered  cold  lunches  for  the 
summer,  the  girl  had  fixed  everything  for  him, 
and  left  it  in  the  refrigerator.  Joe,  the  house 
man,  would  serve  it.  Milly  herself,  who  was 
just  leaving  the  house  as  her  uncle  came  in, 


UNCLE  JASON  189 

had  an  engagement  in  Chatterton  for  lunch 
and  must  hurry;  but  if  he  wanted  coffee  Joe 
could  make  a  fire  for  him,  though  he  could 
not  brew  any  drinkable  beverage.  But  Uncle 
Jason  had  always  said  he  could  make  better 
coffee  than  her  mother's  cooks,  and  it  would 
take  only  a  few  minutes.  It  was  too  bad 
about  the  headache;  he  should  have  taken  his 
coffee  at  breakfast.  And  Milly  drove  off,  a 
vision  of  gentle  serenity,  and  left  him  gasping 
in  the  hall. 

Caro  went  back  with  her  in  time  for  dinner. 
Milly  had  passed  the  pale  stage  and  was  in 
unwonted  and  most  becoming  excitement. 
Caro,  of  course,  was  enraptured  with  the  whole 
situation.  She  is  the  only  soul  alive  who  ever 
held  Cousin  Jason  in  check;  and  now  she  in- 
furiated him  with  her  innocent  remarks,  and 
made  him  laugh  the  next  moment  in  spite  of 
himself,  which  made  him  more  furious  still. 
After  dinner  they  retired  to  Milly's  room  and 
discussed  Bobolink's  perfections — and  David's, 
I  wonder? — until  the  latest  of  late  bedtimes. 

At  breakfast  Cousin  Jason  was  more  than 
crabbed;  but  he  drank  the  last  of  his  coffee, 
and  made  quite  a  hearty  meal  before  pro- 


190    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

nouncing  the  very  excellent  waffles  unfit  for 
human  consumption  and  slamming  the  din- 
ing-room door  after  him  as  he  went  out.  Caro 
had  then  seen  Milly  off  to  the  city,  where  she 
was  to  do  a  little  shopping  and  "  take  a  bobo- 
link lunch,"and  would  go  back  to  spend  the 
night  with  her. 

Caro  will  stay  there  all  the  time  Grace  is 
away.  She  is  in  the  highest  of  spirits  over 
the  prospect,  not  only  because  a  battle  with 
Cousin  Jason  has  been  one  of  her  life-long 
desires;  but  because  she  is  more  than  weary 
of  Cousin  Jane,  and  her  blunderbuss  manner 
of  forcing  conversation  anent  Bob  White. 
Caro  won't  say  much  about  it — for  fear,  I 
devoutly  hope,  that  I  may  draw  inferences 
in  David's  favor;  but  she  is  unconcealably 
bored  with  Bob,  and  his  money,  and  his  pedi- 
gree and  connections,  clear  back  to  Noah.  I 
doubt  if  the  boy  ever  had  a  chance  with  her; 
but  if  he  had — or  would  have  had  without 
Cousin  Jane's  disastrous  approval  of  him — 
it  is  only  a  might-have-been  henceforth.  I 
feel  a  little  sorry  for  him,  but  not  much.  He 
was  crazy  about  Olive  Wilson  last  year,  and 
will  be  crazy  about  somebody  else  before  long. 


UNCLE  JASON  191 

He's  one  of  those  fellows  who  find  a  pretty 
girl  a  necessary  adjunct  to  life,  and  if  one  can't 
be  had,  he  will  cheerfully  and  whole-heart- 
edly look  for  another.  When  he  gets  her,  he 
will  settle  down  with  her  contentedly,  and  make 
a  devoted  and  exemplary  spouse. 

Of  course  I  keep  David  posted.  And  of 
course  he  wants  me  to.  But  he  never  alludes 
to  Caro  in  his  letters,  which  are  long  and  in- 
teresting, and  determinedly  cheerful.  The 
little  sinner  asks  for  them  unblushingly  every 
time  she  comes  over,  and  is  delighted  that 
"dear  David"  is  enjoying  himself  so,  and  is 
so  in  love  with  the  West.  She  is  ostentatiously 
fond  of  him,  in  a  lofty,  elder-sisterly  manner, 
and  makes  frequent  inquiries  about  his  health, 
which  appears  to  be  unromantically  robust. 
I  cannot  see  the  slightest  change  in  her,  except 
for  a  wistfulness  in  her  pretty  eyes,  when  she 
has  to  say  good-bye  and  go  away;  and  some- 
times a  fleeting  quiver  in  her  smile  when  she 
finds  me  back  in  bed,  as  she  has  done  so  often 
of  late.  I  am  glad  we  are  to  leave  together 
soon,  for  I  can  scarcely  bear  this  continual 
sending  her  away.  I  don't  think  she  can  mind 
going,  busy  and  active  as  she  is,  as  I  mind 


192    IN  THE  GARDEX  OF  DELIGHT 

having  her  go.  I  really  am  a  very  old  lady 
to  be  so  upset  with  youthful  love  affairs:  I'm 
positively  decrepit.  But  if  one  will  have  the 
fun  of  having  children,  I  suppose  one  must 
pay  the  piper  sometimes. 

June  6th.  I  think  I  am  learning  the  art 
of  living;  and  isn't  that  worth  a  bit  of  pain? 
It  is  to  discover  the  best  in  the  present  moment, 
though  it  be  no  larger  than  a  needle  in  a 
haystack,  and  getting  the  good  of  it  while  one 
has  it.  One  can  relax  one's  mind  by  force 
of  will,  and  hold  it  open  to  small  pleasures 
and  tiny  interests;  and  such  little  things  may 
become  one's  salvation  in  desperate  straits! 
I  think  that  is  one  of  life's  greatest  needs, 
especially  as  one  grows  older,  or  if  one  is 
ill — that  one  should  guard  and  cherish  the 
capacity  for  enjoyment  of  trifles.  It  is  to 
the  soul  what  elasticity  of  the  arteries  is  to 
the  body;  for  through  it  the  currents  of  our 
thoughts  and  feelings  run  in  swift  and  whole- 
some tides,  to  the  upbuilding  of  the  inner  life. 

And  there's  always  something.  Though  the 
children  have  run  away,  I  have  the  birds. 


UNCLE  JASON  193 

June  7th.  Milly  has  crossed  her  Rubicon, 
sure  enough.  I  was  propped  up  in  bed  yes- 
terday evening,  with  my  tray  before  me,  and 
the  Peon  was  eating  his  dinner  from  a  flower- 
garnished  table  beside  me,  when  there  came  a 
sudden  gust  of  laughter  in  the  hall,  and  a 
moment  later  she  and  Caro  came  in  the  room. 

"  Oh,  Mammy  Lil,  won't  you  please  give 
us  something  to  eat?  "  Caro  besought.  "  Just 
a  bite  of  your  fried  chicken,  Daddy  Jack,  for 
two  beautiful  damsels  in  distress  ;and  a  pinch 
of  oats  or  something  for  a  poor  little  pin-feath- 
ered bird  we've  got  in  the  hall  that's  most  mad 
enough  to  chew  nails — or  would  be  if  he  were 
not  a  saint." 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  is  in  the  parlor,  Cousin 
John,"  said  Milly.  "We  don't  want  anj^ 
dinner,  of  course — he's  going  back  to  town 
in  a  few  minutes;  he  just  drove  us  over  from 
home.  We  want  to  stay  all  night — Caro  and 
I." 

The  Peon  was  already  in  the  hall.  Milly 
looked  wonderfully  pretty  r  with  that  light  in 
her  eyes,  and  a  soft  color  in  her  cheeks,  like 
fire  behind  a  pearl. 


194    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

"  Indeed  we  do  want  dinner ! "  exclaimed 
Caro.  "  Come  along  and  help  me  forage. 
There's  no  use  in  Bobolink's  going  back.  He 
can  stay  at  the  hotel  in  Chatterton  to-night, 
and  get  back  in  plenty  of  time  for  his  business 
in  the  morning. — Poor  Mammy  Lil!  We're 
not  telling  you  a  thing;  but  I'll  come  back  in 
a  minute  with  the  whole  tale,  as  soon  as  I  get 
dinner  started." 

She  dropped  a  kiss  on  the  end  of  my  nose 
— her  favorite  spot  for  such  attentions — and 
went  out,  drawing  Milly  after  her.  I  heard 
them  in  the  dining-room  with  the  servants, 
and  then  Caro's  gay  voice  in  the  parlor  a 
moment ;  and  then  she  came  back  to  me.  She 
picked  a  drumstick  from  the  Peon's  dish,  and 
sat  on  my  bed  gnawing  it,  joyfully  reminiscent 
of  her  recent  adventures. 

"  Mammy  Lil,"  she  began  impressively, 
"  jay-baiting  is  the  grandest  sport  ever  in- 
vented. Milly  doesn't  appreciate  the  fun  of 
it  as  much  as  she  might,  but  she's  dead  game ; 
and  I've  been  having  the  time  of  my  life." 

"  It's  too  bad  that  Mr.  Lincoln  couldn't 
have  been  kept  free  from  it,  dear.  How  did 
that  happen? " 


UNCLE  JASON  195 

"  Why,  that  wasn't  our  fault  at  all.  He 
often  comes  out  in  the  afternoon  and  takes 
Milly  out  in  his  car.  Then  he  goes  to  the  ho- 
tel in  Chatterton  for  supper,  and  comes  back 
for  the  evening.  He  hardly  ever  sees  Cousin 
Jay,  and  when  he  does,  there's  never  been  any 
trouble  since  that  time  Milly  told  you  about; 
she's  made  him  leave  at  half-past  nine  ever 
since. 

"  They  came  back  early  from  their  drive  be- 
cause I  was  to  be  there,  and  he  stopped  for  a 
little  visit  before  dinner.  He  doesn't  stop 
usually — they  stay  out  till  the  last  minute; 
and  Cousin  Jay  just  jumped  to  the  con- 
clusion Milly  had  asked  him  to  dinner.  We 
have  been  teaching  Cousin  Jay  to  eat  all  the 
breakfast  he  wants  before  he  leaves  the  table, 
and  one  or  two  other  things,  too.  If  he's  too 
horrid  at  dinner  we  go  to  our  room  afterward, 
and  leave  him  all  the  evening  with  nobody  to 
quarrel  at.  And  I  suppose  he  just  meant  to 
get  even.  He  came  out  and  told  Milly  and 
me  to  go  in  the  house  and  get  ready  for  din- 
ner, for  he  was  tired  of  waiting  for  us.  And 
then  he  turned  around  to  Mr.  Lincoln — he 
hadn't  spoken  to  him  at  all — and  said,  *  It's 


196    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

time  for  you  to  be  going,  young  man,  and  you 
needn't  come  back  after  supper.  I'm  tired  of 
your  hanging  around  here.'  And  then  he  turn- 
ed on  his  heel  and  walked  to  the  house.  Oh, 
I  was  so  mad  I  could  hear  my  hair  crackle! 
Just  feel  how  crisped-up  and  woolly  it  is." 

She  bent  forward  on  the  bed  and  pushed 
her  soft  curls  under  my  hand,  burrowing  her 
nose  in  the  covers. 

"What  did  Mr.  Lincoln  do?" 

"  Just  behaved  like  an  angel.  He  didn't 
have  a  thought  but  for  Milly.  He  forgot  all 
about  me,  and  spoke  to  her  as  if  they  were 
alone.  Mammy  Lil,  that  man's  sweet.  He'll 
do  for  Milly,  and  I  told  him  so  afterwards. 
But  Milly  was  a  perfect  joy  She  gave  Bobo- 
link one  adoring  look.  It  went  to  my  very 
toes,  so  I  don't  know  what  it  did  to  him;  and 
then  she  said,  in  the  quietest  way: 

'  Won't  you  stay  here  for  a  few  minutes 
and  wait  for  me?  I'm  coming  back." 

"  And  he  said  he'd  wait  till  doomsday,  of 
course !  and  she  took  my  hand  without  a  word, 
and  into  the  house  we  went.  It  wasn't  nearly 
dinner  time.  We  went  by  the  back  way,  and 
She  stopped  in  the  kitchen  long  enough  to  tell 


UNCLE  JASON  197 

Jule  she  wouldn't  be  home  for  several  days, 
and  what  to  do  for  Cousin  Jason.  Then  we 
went  upstairs  and  packed  a  couple  of  suit- 
cases, and  I  called  Joe  to  take  them  down 
stairs.  We  all  went  down  the  front  way,  and 
there  he  was  in  the  hall. 

'  What  the  deuce  are  you  doing? "  he  snap- 
ped. 

'  I'm  going  out  of  this  house,'  said  Milly, 
as  quietly  as  if  she'd  said  she  were  going  out 
on  the  porch;  'and  I'm  not  coming  back  till 
you  learn  your  place  in  it.' ' 

" '  I  reckon  you'll  learn  some  sense  when 
your  mother  comes  home,'  he  sneered.  '  Go 
play  the  fool  if  you  want  to.' 

"  Milly  didn't  seem  to  hear  him ;  and  some- 
how that  still,  deep  anger  of  hers  made  me 
ashamed  to  sputter,  so  I  never  said  a  word. 
He  slammed  the  door  behind  us,  and  we  all 
got  in  Bobolink's  car  and  came  over. 

"  Milly  told  him  what  she  had  said  to  Cous- 
in Jay,  and  they  fixed  everything  in  two  min- 
utes. Milly  won't  write  a  word  to  Cousin 
Grace,  because  she's  just  obliged  to  stay  with 
old  Mrs.  Wood  till  her  daughter  gets  back, 
and  there's  no  use  in  worrying  her.  I  know 


198    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

you'll  let  Milly  stay  here;  and  when  Cousin 
Grace  comes  back,  if  she'll  make  Cousin  Jay 
behave,  or  go  away,  Milly  will  go  home  and 
wait  to  be  married  till  her  mother  wishes.  But 
if  Cousin  Grace  won't  stop  him,  Milly's  go- 
ing to  marry  Bobolink  right  off,  in  church, 
with  just  the  clothes  she  has.  And  I  think 
she's  exactly  right." 

"  She's  right  to  come  here  and  wait  for 
Grace  to  settle  it,"  I  said;  "and  Grace  will 
settle  it  right,  I  know." 

But  I  was  half  afraid,  even  as  I  said  it. 
Cousin  Jason  has  bent  Grace  like  a  reed  from 
her  babyhood,  and  almost — perhaps  not  quite 
— broken  her.  Could  she  stand  against  him, 
even  if  she  would? 

June  9th.  Could  she  indeed?  As  if  love 
couldn't  set  the  gentlest  face  like  a  flint! 

We  were  all  in  here  this  morning,  Milly 
and  Caro  both  busy  with  a  lace-y  frock  for 
the  bride-to-be — "  just  in  case  she  has  to  be 
a  bride  next  week  " — when  I  saw  Grace  driv- 
ing up.  I  did  not  tell  them  she  was  coming, 
and  her  arms  were  around  Milly  before  the 
child  knew  she  was  there. 


UNCLE  JASON  199 

"You  darling!"  said  Grace;  "you'll  have 
to  forgive  me  dear,  as  Robert  has  done.  He's 
coming  out  this  afternoon  to  take  dinner  and 
spend  the  night." 

Milly  gave  a  little  gasp,  and  then  dropped 
her  head  on  her  mother's  shoulder  and  began 
to  cry.  Caro  snatched  up  the  filmy  stuff  they 
were  working  on,  threw  it  over  Milly  like  a 
bridal  veil,  and  pirouetted  around  the  two, 
crooning  the  dolefulest  tune  imaginable,  her 
eyes  dancing  with  fun.  Grace  looked  up. 

"  Don't  stop  petting  Milly  a  minute,"  Caro 
exhorted;  "  she's  a  perfect  heroine,  and  Bobo- 
link's a  dear.  I'm  just  singing  a  requiem  for 
my  jay-bird  kin." 

"But,  Mother,"  asked  Milly,  sitting  up, 
"  how  ever  did  you  hear  about  it?  And  how 
did  you  happen  to  come  home  so  soon?  And 
when  did  you  see — Robert?"  She  blushed 
beautifully  as  she  called  his  name. 

'  Your  uncle  telephoned  me  night  before 
last.  I  knew  he  had  everything  wrong,  of 
course;  but  I  was  sure  that  enough  was  the 
matter  for  me  to  come  home  and  see  about  it. 
It  was  all  right  to  leave  Mother,  for  Annie 
promised  to  stay,  and  Mary  is  coming  the  last 


200    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

of  the  week.  So  I  telephoned  Robert  to  meet 
me  in  town  yesterday  at  twelve  o'clock.  I 
stayed  there  last  night  because  there  were  sev- 
eral things  to  do  in  taking  business  affairs  into 
my  own  hands  again ;  and  before  I  saw  Brother 
Jason  I  had  to  think  out  clearly  what  Iwished 
to  say." 

"  Have  you  seen  him?  " 

"  Yes,  I  went  there  first  this  morning."  She 
hesitated,  a  troubled  look  in  her  eyes.  Milly 
drew  her  closer. 

"  Poor  mother! "  she  said. 

"  It  is  your  uncle  who  needs  sympathy,  dear, 
though  he  will  not  have  it.  And  I  know  it  is 
partly  my  fault,  and  partly  the  whole  family's, 
as  well  as  his.  We  have  all  given  up  to  him  all 
our  lives,  under  color  of  being  kind  and  patient 
and  magnanimous,  and  all  that,  when  at  the 
bottom  we  were  just  afraid  to  oppose  him;  and 
he — suffers." 

"  O,  Mother,  I'm  sorry! "  cried  Milly.  "  I'll 
give  up ! " 

"  Now,  Cousin  Grace,  I  call  that  a  shame," 
broke  in  Caro.  "  No  matter  what  you  and  Mil- 
ly do,  you  make  a  fault  and  a  penance  out  of 


UNCLE  JASON  201 

it  to  shield  him  and  hurt  yourselves.  It  isn't 
fair.  He  knows  he's  outrageous,  and  he  doesn't 
care;  and  I  just  think  he  ought  to  be  hurt,  to 
find  out  what  he's  been  doing  to  other  people. 
If  he's  gone,  do  let  Milly  enjoy  herself,  for 
once.  But  is  he  gone,  really?" 

"  He's  going,"  said  Grace.  "  I  wanted  him 
to  stay,  as  my  guest,  and  not  as  the  master  of 
the  house.  But  he — he  was  very  angry.  He  is 
to  leave  this  morning,  while  I  am  here.  He's 
going  back  to  his  own  house  and  live  there  all 
alone." 

"And  a  mighty  good  thing  for  him,"  de- 
clared Caro.  "  When  I  used  to  indulge  in 
tantrums  like  his,  Mammy  Lil  always  made  me 
go  stay  by  myself  till  I  was  what  she  called 
a  social  creature.  I  think  I'll  go  over  and  see 
Cousin  Jason  and  tell  him  about  it.  I  could 
always  come  back  the  second  I  was  willing  to 
be  polite,  and  so  can  he.  Think  of  Cousin  Ja- 
son's emerging  a  social  creature!  Butterflies 
and  caterpillars  won't  be  in  it.  But  if  Milly 
isn't  to  be  married  next  week,  when  do  we  be- 
gin on  the  trousseau? " 

The  talk  passed  into  a  discussion  of  clothes, 


202    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

and  drifted  about  that  interesting  topic  till 
time  for  them  to  go  home.  They  found  their 
house  empty,  except  for  the  servants.  Cousin 
Jason  had  gone,  as  he  said,  without  eating 
again  beneath  his  sister's  roof. 

June  16th.  I  suppose  the  excitement  of 
Cousin  Jason's  deposition  was  a  little  too  much 
for  me:  I've  been  curled  up  dead-'possum- 
fashion  for  a  week.  Now  I'm  uncurling  again, 
and  showing  that,  like  the  'possum,  I'm  not  so 
dead  as  I  look.  Caro  came  back,  whether  or  no, 
and  took  charge  of  me.  It  is  a  great  comfort 
to  have  her. 

June  19th.  A  slow  pull  and  a  hard  one.  But 
I  make  it,  inch  by  inch. 

June  21st.  Courage,  patience  and  laughter — 
life  would  be  impossible  without  them.  Yet 
the  first  necessity,  and  the  last,  is  love.  If 
one  only  loves  enough,  one  can  fight  anything, 
and  fight  always,  while  breath  and  conscious- 
ness last. 


UNCLE  JASON  203 

June  24th. 

WHEN  WINGS  GO  BY. 

rA  flash  of  wings  across  my  window-pane! 
Fallen  these  narrow  walls;  and  sky-arched  plain. 
Fern-haunted  pool,  white  foam  of  summer  seas, 
Blue,  dawn-steeped  mountains,  dusk  of  forest  trees — 
All  things  free  wings  may  seek,  or  near  or  far — 
Sweep  round  this  bed,  where  pain  and  stillness  are. 
A  prisoned  life?     When  any  moment  brings 
A  far  horizon,  and  the  sense  of  wings? 


XI 

WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT 

July  7th.  I  have  seen  the  woods  in  summer 
time  again !  It  was  winter  when  I  left  home  for 
those  three  years,  and  winter  when  I  went  back ; 
and,  though  one  does  not  think  of  the  country 
passed  in  a  winter  journey  as  dead — for  the 
winter's  story  of  life  reserved  is  as  vivid  as  the 
summer  one  of  life  out-poured — yet  one  longs 
to  see,  far  out-spread  in  breeze  and  sunshine, 
the  close-shut  life  of  the  winter  buds. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  would  allow  it,  the 
Peon  and  Caro  brought  me  here.  We  came 
through  the  mountains  nearly  all  the  way — one 
long  splendor  of  rhododendrons,  wild  phlox, 
azaleas,  laurel,  and  briar  rose,  all  in  glorious 
bloom ;  and  above  them  the  green  billows  of  the 
trees,  with  great  masses  of  chestnut  blooms 
for  foam.  And  everywhere  the  mountains 
themselves,  green  and  dark  near  at  hand,  and 
blue  and  faint  in  the  distance;  and  between 

204. 


THE    BATTLE  205 

them  the  valleys,  heaped  with  beauty  and  over- 
flowing with  life. 

The  Boss  and  the  Madam  met  us  in  Balti- 
more, and  brought  us  to  this  heavenly  place. 
My  room  is  downstairs,  with  windows  on  three 
sides,  and  wide  doors  opening  on  a  quiet  end 
of  the  wide  piazza,  which  nearly  encircles  the 
house.  I  can  be  wheeled  there,  straight  from 
the  bed,  to  a  couch-like  hammock,  where  a 
cranky  back  may  be  as  comfortable  as  its  own 
bad  temper  will  allow;  and  my  bed  is  under  a 
long  row  of  windows,  just  as  it  is  at  home.  I 
can  look  out  across  the  small  pleateau,  occupied 
by  the  cottage  grounds,  to  mountains,  near 
and  far,  and  to  the  glory  of  the  sunset  skies. 
And  again,  from  the  porch,  on  mountains,  and 
slopes  where  the  summer  cottagers  have  set 
their  beautiful  homes. 

I  was  ashamed  to  come  here  in  this  battered 
condition ;  when  theMadam  wrote  for  us  I  ex- 
pected to  be  walking  all  about  by  the  time  I 
came.  But  they  would  have  me,  and  the  Peon 
and  Caro  were  of  the  same  mind.  For  myself, 
I  can  scarcely  imagine  a  lovelier  place  to  get 
well  in;  the  loving-kindness  indoors  is  as  fine 
a  tonic  as  the  mountain  air  outside. 


I  have  not  seen  any  of  the  Peon's  family  in 
all  these  years  of  my  invalidism,  but  I  find 
them  in  spirit  just  where  I  left  them — and  in 
body,  too,  for  that  matter ;  for  health  and  love 
and  happiness  are  a  combination  to  defy  time, 
and  the  heads  of  the  household  are  still  a  bridal 
pair.  Their  youthful  names  for  one  another, 
long  since  adopted  by  the  rest  of  us,  suit  their 
sunny  middle-age  as  well  as  ever;  so  the  "Boss" 
and  the  "Madam"  they  remain. 

One  of  the  daughters  is  married,  and  will 
make  but  a  brief  visit  this  summer.  The  other, 
known  as  Hazel-eyes,  is  the  light  of  the  big 
house ;  a  quiet  little  body,  wonderfully  pretty, 
her  mother's  shadow  and  her  father's  adorer. 

The  Peon  stayed  only  a  couple  of  days,  and 
went  back  to  our  empty  nest.  He  is  to  go 
West  before  long,  and  wrill  come  here  on  his 
return  to  tell  me  all  about  David. 

Caro  is  restless  and  unusually  silent,  not 
doing  herself  justice  among  strangers.  The 
child  has  been  severely  taxed  in  the  last  few 
weeks,  and  shows  it  plainly.  The  roses  are  all 
gone,  and  her  eyes  are  tired  and  sad.  She 
seems  like  a  new  Caro  whom  I  must  learn  to 
know.  I  know  I  was  ill  for  awhile,  though  not 


THE    BATTLE  207 

as  ill  as  they  thought;  and  she  never  saw  me 
suffer  that  way  before.  But  it  isn't  that  which 
clouds  her  bright  eyes — it  can't  be,  no  matter 
what  she  says,  now  that  I  am  past  the  worst  of 
it.  I  wonder  will  she  ever  open  her  heart  to 
me  about  David.  She  used  to  tell  me  every- 
thing. I  always  said  the  test  of  my  success  in 
mothering  her  would  come  with  her  falling  in 
love  ;if  she  same  to  me  with  that,  I  would  know 
I  had  done  my  work  aright.  And  now  I  see 
that  I  have  failed.  If  I  had  been  her  real  moth- 
er I  would  have  known  better  how  to  reach  her. 
It  is  a  real  motherhood  to  me,  of  course,  but  not 
to  Caro — and  perhaps  not  even  to  David.  So 
I  must  lie  here  and  wait,  like  any  other  out- 
sider, till  everybody  knows  how  it  turns  out. 

July  9th.  Yesterday  Caro  wheeled  me  out 
to  the  line  of  locusts,  which  cuts  this  plateau  in 
half  and  divides  the  Boss's  grounds  from  his 
neighbor's.  A  song  sparrow  came  to  call  at 
once,  a  dear  little  fellow,  all  streaks  and  mu- 
sic. They  sing  here  all  day  long — they  and 
the  winter  wrens. 

A  flicker  has  a  clamorous  brood  in  the  tall- 
est locust ;  they  cry  every  moment,  except  when 


their  wail  is  gagged  by  a  worm.  Their  par- 
ents toil  incessantly,  but  I  should  think  their 
nerves  would  be  on  edge.  The  bluebird  moth- 
ers, too,  are  hard  at  work,  for  there  are  dozens 
of  bluebird  babies  to  feed,  and  bluebird  fathers 
never  turn  a  wing  or  lend  a  bill  to  their  up- 
bringing. The  babies  are  cunning,  speckled 
things,  their  big  round  eyes  ringed  with  white, 
giving  them  an  expresson  of  child-like  wonder. 

This  afternoon  I  am  out  on  my  end  of  the 
porch,  in  the  hammock.  Caro  has  gone  with 
Hazel-eyes  and  a  party  of  young  folks  on  an 
expedition  to  Bare  Rock — a  great  shelf  of 
granite  which  juts  out  near  the  top  of  the 
mountain  to  the  north  of  us,  and  from  which 
there  is  a  wonderful  view.  The  Madam  is 
entertaining  visitors  on  the  other  side  of  the 
porch,  and  I  am  finding  the  solitude  I  need  a 
constant  temptation  to  Grumpyish  thoughts. 

When  one  wants  to  bog  down,  there  are  al- 
ways such  unassailable  reasons  for  doing  it! 
I  have  faced  Grumpy  down  and  out  about  the 
pain.  And  I've  done  fairly  well  about  the  idle- 
ness ;  that  isn't  a  losing  fight,  at  least.  But  I'm 
just  bowled  over  about  the  children.  And  it 
isn't  altogether  that  they're  suffering,  though 


THE    BATTLE  209 

that  hurts.  It's  because  they're  suffering  away 
from  me,  and  I  can't  do  anything  until  they 
choose  to  take  me  into  their  confidence. 

I've  been  lying  here  thinking  how  Grumpy 
must  be  enjoying  my  back-sliding  till  I've 
made  up  my  mind  to  fight  him  to  a  finish  on  this 
also.  They  have  a  right  to  their  secrets  and  to 
their  own  lives ;  it's  the  right  and  natural  way. 
I  never  repaid  Great-aunt  Letitia's  love  to  her. 
any  more  than  she  repaid  her  mother's.  You 
don't  pay  love  back ;  you  pay  it  forward.  The 
great-aunts  paid  their  love-debt,  not  to  their 
mother,  but  to  me ;  and  I've  paid  what  I  owed 
them  to  David  and  Caro ;  and  Caro  and  David 
won't  pay  to  me — they  can't ;  they'll  pay  it  to 
children  yet  unborn.  Why  can't  I  accept  the 
law,  and  be  glad?  It's  trying  to  grab  what 
isn't  one's  share  that  makes  all  the  trouble  in 
life,  anyway.  I've  always  said  the  most  secure 
possession  was  the  one  carried  in  an  open  handi> 
and  free  to  fly  at  a  breath:  I'll  carry  the  chil- 
dren that  way  now.  And  for  amusement,  there 
are  still  the  birds. 

July  10th.    As  I  lay  on  the  porch  this  after- 
noon, facing  the  great  mountain  to  the  north, 


210    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

the  long  fingers  of  the  westering  light  touched 
the  foamy  white  tops  of  the  chestnut  trees, 
still  crowned  with  their  mist  of  bloom.  The 
light  slid  across  the  hollows  of  the  mountain- 
side, filling  the  long  curves  with  dark  green 
shadows,  a  soft,  deep  background  for  the  ma- 
ples of  the  nearer  lawns,  all  golden  green  in 
the  full  sunlight,  and  for  the  silver  of  the  wind- 
ruffled  poplars.  Locust  trees  are  on  every 
side,  a  survival  of  the  native  forests.  Where 
the  light  is  reflected  from  their  leaves,  they  are 
a  dark  bluish  green;  but  where  the  sun  strikes 
through  them,  each  leaflet  is  shining  gold,  and 
the  long  leaves  sway  at  the  end  of  every  branch 
like  giant  fronds  gleaming  under  some  Midas 
touch. 

But  even  the  locusts  are  far  away,  across  the 
many-acred  lawn.  The  trees  near  the  house 
are  too  young  and  small  to  shelter  birds ;  and 
if  I  go  out  to  the  locusts  their  foliage  is  too 
light  and  too  high  to  shade  my  eyes  from  the 
glare:  so  I  have  been  missing  the  birds.  If  I 
could  stay  with  the  others  it  wouldn't  matter; 
but  I  must  lie  alone,  and  in  silence,  resting  be- 
tween lines  when  I  write ;  and  Grumpy  is  bor- 
ing company.  So  I've  been  casting  envious 


THE    BATTLE  211 

looks  at  a  place  across  the  road.  A  long  hedge 
of  blossoming  privet  hides  everything  but  the 
tree-tops,  but  there  are  dozens  of  them;  and 
wings  flash  in  and  out.  It  is  a  large  place, 
larger  than  this;  I  know  there's  a  corner  in  it 
there  I  wouldn't  be  in  the  way.  The  sense  of 
something  near  and  unknown,  yet  knowable, 
draws  me  daily.  The  Garden  of  Delight  I  call 
it,  and  listen  for  the  songs  which  float  from  it, 
and  long  for  its  shade  and  sunshine. 

When  the  Madam  came  to  sit  with  me  I 
confessed  my  daft  condition  to  her,  and  she 
went  across  the  road  to  the  Garden's  owners — 
two  ladies  who  are  friends  of  hers — and  re- 
turned presently  with  the  freedom  of  the  Gar- 
den for  me  and  my  chair.  I  am  to  go  to-mor- 
row. 

I  wonder  sometimes  if  people  dream  of  the 
pleasure  they  can  give  through  little  things. 
To  these  ladies  I  suppose  their  bit  of  hospital- 
ity is  a  trifle  soon  forgotten ;  but  to  me  it  is  pure 
delight.  It  will  hearten  me  for  my  fight  a 
thousand  times,  and  lift  me  clear  above  the 
pain  a  thousand  more.  It  is  hard  to  keep 
steady  when  one  is  so  happy.  The  long,  filmy 
curves  of  wind-swept  silver  in  the  evening  sky 


212    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

grow  suddenly  dim;  and  when  they  wheel  me 
back  to  bed  I  am  "  fair  lifted,"  as  the  Scotch 
say,  and  wait  joyfully  in  the  darkness  for  such 
sleep  as  night  may  bring. 

July  llth.  The  Garden  of  Delight!  A 
close-shaven  sward  from  which  the  tiniest  bird 
stands  up  distinctly ;  and  trees,  and  trees,  and 
trees!  Shrubs  and  vines,  rose-beds,  azaleas, 
tall  altheas,  clumps  of  iris,  masses  of  old-fash- 
ioned lilies,  tangles  of  honeysuckles  on  the 
fences,  beds  of  early  phlox,  ragged  robins, 
larkspur,  and  ferns — all  things  cool  and  quiet 
and  sweet.  In  the  dense  shade  of  tall  shrubs 
they  have  left  me,  the  feathery  locusts  waving 
overhead,  and  before  me  a  hitherto  unsuspected 
vista  of  beauty — the  long,  long  valley  which 
leads  to  Gettysburg,  with  the  mountains 
guarding  it  on  either  side. 

Beyond  the  greensward  lies  a  beautiful  bit 
of  wilderness — ferns  and  wild  flowers  under 
thick-set  trees;  beyond  that,  close-shaven  grass 
again,  then  a  bit  of  clover,  and  a  tangle  out  of 
the  very  heart  of  the  woods.  And  everywhere 
are  birds.  And  I,  wrho  have  longed  for  the 
woods  for  years,  and  who  have  never  dreamed 


THE    BATTLE  213 

of  finding  them  outside  of  the  land  of  Make- 
Believe,  I  am  here,  far  off,  a  thousand  miles 
from  everywhere,  alone  with  the  sky  and  the 
winds  and  the  wild  mountains,  in  a  silence  of 
upper  air !  One  can  bear  one's  body  in  a  place 
like  this:  it  doesn't  matter  that  it  cannot  run, 
nor  walk.  One's  mind  can  run,  and  fly,  and 
rise  so  high  that  the  pain  lies  far  below,  lost, 
vanished,  like  a  pebble  in  the  valley  when  one 
looks  from  a  free  mountain  peak  against  the 
sky.  For  one  glorious  hour  I  have  run  away 
from  it — this  pain  that  wrenches  and  grips; 
I  have  been  free,  free!  And  so  my  hope 
grows  bold,  and  I  reach  out  to  touch  that 
happy  future  when  I  shall  be  free  in  body  as 
well  as  in  mind:  it  will  come — some  day! 

And  oh,  foolish  one,  remember,  and  learn! 
For  the  Garden  of  Delight  was  close  at  hand 
all  the  time,  only  I  hadn't  the  wit  to  reach  it 
till  my  body  was  carried  thither.  But  there 
is  always  a  Garden,  if  one  can  find  it — a: 
Garden  of  Delight,  hidden  behind  the  hedge! 

July  15tH.  The  birds  are  not  kind  to-day, 
even  here  in  the  Garden.  It  is  a  grey  evening, 
for  one  thing,  and  the  light  is  bad  for  spying 


214    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT, 

out  secrets  among  the  leaves.  The  weather 
is  misty  and  damp,  promising  the  rain  we 
need;  but  everything  is  dry  from  recent  heat, 
and  the  insects  may  be  less  juicy  than  usual, 
and  not  very  tempting  eating.  Anyway,  the 
birds  are  not  here. 

The  mist,  with  the  dim  light  of  the  evening 
sun  upon  it,  spreads  a  film  of  silver  over  the 
blues  and  greens  of  the  mountains.  Down 
in  the  valley  it  deepens  till  all  the  colors  are 
faint  and  soft,  from  the  pale  stubble  of  the 
nearer  wheatfields  all  up  the  long  valley  be- 
tween the  mountains,  to  where  the  dim  blue 
of  the  great  battlefield  melts  into  the  dim 
blue  of  the  sky  above  it. 

It  was  down  this  Valley,  over  the  road  at 
my  feet,  that  the  men  of  the  Southern  army 
tramped  after  the  battle  was  lost.  My  own 
kinsmen  were  there,  following  their  great 
leader  with  the  rest,  as  he  passed  through  the 
Valley  of  Defeat.  How  much  seemed  lost  to 
them,  who  can  say?  But  to  us  of  a  later 
generation  how  plain  it  is  that  nothing  was 
lost  at  Gettysburg  which  it  were  well  to  keep. 
The  really  priceless  thing  they  brought  away 
unharmed — the  courage  which  could  accept 


THE    BATTLE  215 

defeat,  and  turn,  without  a  murmur,  in  the 
wreck  of  the  old  order,  to  the  upbuilding  of 
a  new  world.  That  was  a  struggle  which  the 
world  even  now  knows  little  of,  though  it  was 
as  wide  as  the  South  and  as  long  as  a  gen- 
eration's life-time.  It  was  fought  singly,  and 
in  silence,  in  each  individual  life.  Each  soul 
bled  inwardly,  and  only  God  saw  the  wounds. 
But  I  have  sprung  from  men  who  fought 
that  fight.  Let  me  look  at  the  Valley,  and 
learn. 

July  18th.  The  wind  is  at  play  in  the 
mountains  to-day,  and  sweeps  up  the  Valley 
with  a  sound  as  of  rushing  waters,  bend- 
ing the  trees  before  it.  The  long  shadows 
under  the  swaying  branches  know  not  a 
moment's  rest;  and  the  racing  clouds  shift 
the  shafts  of  sunlight  so  rapidly  from  place 
to  place  that  the  very  earth  seems  moving, 
like  the  lightest  leaf.  Few  birds  are  abroad, 
save  the  robins,  which  battle  against  the  un- 
seen powers  of  the  air,  only  to  be  blown  like 
autumn  leaves.  A  thrasher,  dashed  suddenly 
in  front  of  me,  began  at  once  a  philosophic 
hunt  for  worms —  one  place  was  as  good  as 


216    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

another,  no  doubt ;  but  a  young  robin,  the  black 
of  his  crown  still  separated  from  the  dark 
ear-coverts  by  bands  of  gray,  crouches  fright- 
ened where  he  falls.  His  half-drooped  wings 
show  a  power  which  explains  his  venturing 
abroad;  he  is  full  grown,  though  not  yet  in 
full  robin  dress.  He  is  learning  the  old  lesson 
of  the  young :  that  there  are  things  in  life  which 
not  even  grown-ups  can  do;  and  that  his  lib- 
erty is  merely  a  liberty  to  adjust  himself  to 
forces  which  he  cannot  hope  to  control.  No 
wonder  he  looks  a  bit  dazed! 

The  Mistress  of  the  Garden  comes  out  pres- 
ently to  look  after  her  flowers.  Her  face  is 
good  to  see,  and  her  voice  to  listen  to.  Her 
eyes  have  the  look  of  one  who  dwells  in  that 
place  of  peace  where  happiness  and  sorrow 
are  fused  into  one,  and  are  known  as  equal 
essentials  of  the  highest  joy.  She  is  a  lover 
of  Nature,  too.  One  inevitably  comes  to  be, 
I  think,  as  one  travels  the  long  road  to  ser- 
enity of  soul.  One  may  observe  Nature  in 
youth,  no  doubt,  and  love  it,  too,  somewhat; 
but  the  real  sense  of  kinship  with  it  is  a  matter 
of  living,  and  of  growth. 

July  25th.    Blessed  be  trees  and  sunshine, 


THE   BATTLE  217 

the  open  sky,  and  the  free  winds  which  fill 
it  I  And  blessed  be  the  freshness  and  promise 
of  the  new  day,  coming  alike  to  the  light- 
hearted  and  to  those  pain- weary  and  discour- 
aged. 

And  the  promise  never  fails.  For,  whether 
the  new  day  brings  escape  or  courage,  relief 
or  a  growing  power  of  patience,  whether  it 
means  joy  or  peace,  it  brings  good,  and  only 
good;  and  so  through  all  the  soul  its  sursum 
corda  rings  with  sweetness  and  command. 

July  28th.  After  wheeling  me  over  to  the 
Garden  yesterday  afternoon,  Caro  left  me,  to 
join  in  an  expedition  to  Bare  Rock.  When 
she  had  gone,  I  discovered  to  my  horror  that 
I  had  been  deposited  beneath  the  branch  of 
a  poplar  tree  on  which  some  hundreds  of 
caterpillars  had  just  been  hatched  out.  They 
were  so  thick  that  heads,  tails  and  sides  touched 
everywhere,  as  they  lay  on  leaves  and  stems; 
not  one  could  move  a  hair's  breadth  without 
knocking  off  the  others  or  climbing  over  them. 
What  they  thought  of  my  proximity  I  had  no 
means  of  finding  out;  but  for  me  it  was  not 
a  joyful  occasion.  I  could  move  neither  my 


218    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

chair  nor  myself;  so  I  lay  there,  gazing  up  at 
the  wretched  things  till  I  began  turning  into 
a  caterpillar  myself,  and  felt  fuzz  and  wrig- 
gles sprouting  all  over  me.  But  before  the 
transformation  was  too  far  advanced  to  be 
checked,  I  heard  Caro's  voice  behind  me. 

"  Mammy  Lil,  I  don't  want  to  go  walking. 
May  I  stay  and  talk  to  you?" 

I  had  been  feeling  specially  lonesome  of 
late.  I  kept  telling  myself  I  was  getting  mor- 
bid from  long  illness  and  solitude;  but  it 
seemed  to  me  that  Caro  almost  avoided  me. 
She  waited  on  me  most  thoughtfully;  but  her 
errands  done,  she  disappeared.  There  was 
no  more  of  that  dear  companionship,  when  she 
used  to  sit  near  me,  reading,  or  embroidering, 
while  she  sang  dreamily  to  herself,  or  cuddled 
her  head  against  mine  on  the  pillows  in  a  fel- 
lowship which  needed  no  words.  Children  can't 
possibly  understand  how  bereft  one  feels,  shut 
out.  I  knew  she  loved  me  too  well  to  hurt 
me;  yet  I  had  missed  her,  under  the  same 
roof  with  her,  more  than  I  had  missed  David 
far  away:  the  boy  had  never  shut  me  out  like 
that. 

But  her  voice  was  different  as  she  asked 


THE    BATTLE  219 

her  question  now.  I  remembered  how,  years 
ago,  she  used  to  come  out  of  her  periods  of 
seclusion  in  the  parlor  "  nice  and  social,"  as 
she  would  sweetly  announce,  and  confess  her 
little  soul  inside  out,  clear  to  her  very  toes. 
Before  I  saw  her  face  I  knew  the  barrier  was 
gone,  and  I  was  to  have  her  confidence  at 
last. 

But,  first  of  all,  I  craved  deliverance  from 
the  caterpillars.  Some  of  them  had  hunched 
themselves  up  ominously,  as  if  they  were  about 
to  jump  down  and  float  across  my  nose  on 
silken  threads.  I  was  very  unhappy  indeed. 

Caro  squealed  in  horror  when  she  saw  my 
plight,  and  snatched  me  back  from  my  im- 
pending doom.  She  wheeled  me  across  the 
shaven  grass  to  the  edge  of  the  wood-tangle, 
and  sat  on  a  rock  beside  me,  facing  the  long 
Valley  once  filled  with  marching  men — men 
who  marched  from  the  disaster  of  outward 
defeat  to  the  victory  of  inner  conquest. 

"  Mammy  Lil,"  she  inquired  presently,  "  do 
you  love  me  any  more  at  all?" 

I  turned  my  face  to  her  without  speaking. 
Her  eyes  filled  with  sudden  tears,  and  she 
laid  her  cheek  against  my  hand. 


220    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

4  You're  the  darlingest  mother !  If  you 
weren't,  I'd  be  ashamed  to  tell  you.  Mammy 
Lil,  I've  wished  sometimes  I  could  murder 
myself,  this  last  year;  I've  been  so  cross.  It 
began  last  summer  while  I  was  home  on  va- 
cation. Everybody  in  Chatterton  made  love 
to  Milly  or  me  last  summer,  except  David.  He 
was  just  as  he  always  was — sweet  to  both  of 
us,  but  specially  careful  of  me  because  he  was 
my  brother.  And  I  didn't  feel  the  same  to  him 
at  all.  I — Mammy  Lil,  I  was  as  foolish  about 
David  as  those  boys  were  about  us  two  girls: 
I  was  in  love  with  him,  over  head  and  ears." 
She  paused  while  I  stroked  her  hair. 

"  You  can't  think  how  ashamed  I  was.  And 
of  course  I  treated  him  like  a  yellc-.v  dog. 
And  he  behaved  perfectly.  I  was  sure,  though, 
that  he  didn't  suspect — he,  nor  any  one  else. 
And  then,  at  the  end  of  the  summer,  Cousin 
Jane  told  me  that  David  and  I  were  to  marry. 
I  didn't  believe  you'd  ever  talked  to  her  about 
it,  of  course;  but  I  saw  in  a  flash  what  it 
would  mean  to  you — and  that  David  might 
do  it  to  please  you.  And  I  was  afraid  Cousin 
Jane  suspected  what  a  fool  I  was.  And  she 
went  to  David,  too,  and  told  me  that,  and 


THE    BATTLE  221 

told  him  she'd  told  me.  I  did  want  to  wring 
Cousin  Jane's  neck;  and  I  think  yet  she  de- 
served it ! 

"  David  and  I  had  a  talk.  She  just  butted 
our  heads  together  till  we  had  to.  He  said 
he'd  always  cared;  but  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  wait  till  I  was  through  school  and  you 
were  at  home  again:  it  wasn't  fair  not  to. 
He  was  lovely.  But  he  was  so  quiet — and  so 
confident,  it  seemed  to  me.  I  tried  to  lay  him 
out;  I  was  mad.  And  he  wouldn't  blame  me 
a  bit  for  being  mad;  but  he  said  he  hadn't 
asked  for  any  answer  yet,  and  wouldn't  take 
one  till  he  did  ask  for  it;  and  that  we  mustn't 
worry  you  with  Cousin  Jane's  nonsense,  and 
all  that. 

"  Things  rocked  along  at  Christmas,  except 
that  I  cared  more  than  ever.  But  when  I 
came  back  last  spring  to  stay,  as  soon  as  you 
were  really  better,  David  began  to  show  me 
that  he — you  know,  Mammy  Lil,  how  much 
little  things  can  be  made  to  mean.  And  I 
began  to  see  he  did  care  just  as  I  did.  We 
were  so  happy  in  April !  Only,  I  kept  staving 
the  end  of  it  off.  I  didn't  want  to  be  pinned 
down  too  soon.  But  David — he  understood. 


;<  Then  Cousin  Jane  had  to  take  a  hand 
again.  She'd  found  out  Bob  White  wanted 
to  marry  me — or  thought  he  did;  and  Bob  is 
what  she  calls  a  '  catch.'  She  nabbed  me  that 
day,  as  I  was  coming  home  from  Milly's,  and 
said  the  hatefullest  things  you  ever  heard  in 
your  life — that  everybody  said  I  was  *  setting 
my  cap  '  for  David  and  pretending  to  be  taking 
care  of  you  when  I  was  just  running  after 
him;  and  that  David  had  given  her  to  under- 
stand he  felt  very  badly  about  it,  because  he 
knew  you  and  I  wanted  it  so  much ! 

"  I  knew  as  well  as  I  knew  my  name  that 
was  a  lie  out  of  whole  cloth;  but  I  was  just 
as  angry  as  if  it  were  true.  I  never  had  been 
reconciled  to  caring  about  him  before  he  spoke, 
anyway.  So  I  went  to  Cousin  Jane's,  as  she 
told  me  to,  and  listened  to  Bob  White's  praises 
till  I  was  sick  of  everything  under  the  sun. 
And  when  David  and  I  went  out  that  after- 
noon— Mammy  Lil,  can't  you  understand?" 

"Dear,  I  did  it  myself,  once;  I  ought  to 
understand.  But  I  paid  for  it  afterwards,  as 
you  have  done.  When  you're  an  old  lady 
like  me  you'll  know  better." 


THE    BATTLE  223 

"  I  know  better  now,"  she  said,  with  a  sud- 
den quiver  in  her  voice.  "  I — I  killed  David's 
respect  for  me  that  afternoon." 

"  Nonsense,  child,"  I  exclaimed,  "  he  knows 
you — and  loves  you — too  well  for  that." 

"  He  doesn't  love  me  at  all ;  he  can't.  I 
let  him  think — I  pretended — I'd  just  been  flirt- 
ing with  him;  to  lead  Bob  on."  Her  voice 
died  in  a  shamed  silence. 

This  was  serious  news,  considering  David's 
nature.  If  he  believed  she  really  cared  for 
some  one  else,  I  knew  it  would  take  a  long  time 
for  the  notion  to  work  out  of  his  head;  and 
while  it  was  in  there  he  wouldn't  stir.  And 
I  had  promised  not  to  interfere.  I  stroked 
her  soft  hair  in  silence  for  a  minute. 

"  David  will  never  change  in  his  love  for 
you,  dear,"  I  said ;  "  it's  too  truly  a  part  of 
him  for  that.  And  when  people  really  love 
one  another,  they  come  together,  somehow, 
soon  or  late;  your  Daddy  Jack  and  I  were 
hopelessly  separted  for  weeks." 

"  We've  been  separated  nearly  three 
months,"  said  Caro,  dolefully ;  "  eleven  weeks 
and  four  days  today.  But  I'm  not  going  to 


224    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

talk  about  David  any  more.  What  hurts  me 
most  of  all  is  the  way  I've  treated  you.  You 
ought  to  hate  me  if  you  don't.  I — " 

I  laid  my  hand  over  her  mouth. 

'  What's  the  use  of  being  older  than  you 
if  I  can't  understand,  child?  And  I've  trav- 
elled every  step  of  the  way  before.  Every- 
thing that  isn't  right  will  come  right  between 
you  and  David;  but  with  you  and  me  every- 
thing is  right  already.  Just  drop  your  troubles 
under  the  trees,  dearie,  as  I  do,  and  open 
your  heart  to  the  hills  and  the  sky.  Isn't 
to-day  worth  yesterday's  storm  ?  " 

She  sat  up  and  looked  across  the  Valley. 
The  mountains  stood  out  in  the  afternoon  sun- 
light all  the  clearer  for  the  long  shadows  al- 
ready gathering  in  the  hollows;  each  leaf  and 
grass  blade  was  shining  fresh  after  the  rain, 
and  everywhere  was  a  flutter  and  stir  of  wings. 
A  nuthatch  crept  down  a  locust  trunk  before 
us,  a  yellow-billed  cuckoo  slipped  by  over- 
head; and  all  down  the  hillside  the  swallows 
swept  in  long,  beautiful  curves,  their  bright 
breasts  shining  against  the  sun. 

"  Dear,"  I  said  presently,  "  don't  you  see, 
out  of  doors  here,  how  wise  it  is  to  take  the 


THE    BATTLE  225 

long  look  at  life?  The  mountains  make  me 
ashamed  of  my  fretting.  And  life  is  working 
toward  this  beauty  all  the  time;  the  winters 
in  the  way  don't  matter;  they  pass.  And  yet 
before  they  pass  they  teach  us  to  love  life 
better  when  it  re-appears.  When  your  hap- 
piness is  safe  in  your  hands  once  more,  you 
won't  hurt  it  again  for  a  child's  anger  or  a 
fool's  speech.  I  know;  for  I  learned  it,  too." 

She  laid  her  cheek  against  my  hand  in 
silence,  and  we  watched  together  while  the 
sun  went  down.  The  blue  shadows  overflowed 
the  hollows  of  the  mountains  and  met  across 
the  green  ridges  on  their  sides.  Against  that 
shadowed  background  the  poplars  of  the  Gar- 
den, smitten  by  the  last  rays  of  sunlight,  shone 
like  silver,  and  the  locusts  like  fronds  of  gold. 

Far  below,  in  the  Valley,  lay  the  peace  of 
the  coming  twilight,  and  all  about  us  were 
the  soft  murmuring  of  birdlings  settling  down 
to  rest,  and  of  mothers  crooning  over  them 
as  they  slept.  And  at  last  the  gardener  came 
over  from  the  Madam's,  and  wheeled  me  back, 
with  Caro  by  my  side. 

August  2nd.    The  Peon  is  with  David  now, 


226    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

and  I  shall  soon  be  having  news.  He  did  not 
start  as  early  as  he  hoped,  and  was  detained 
on  the  way;  but  being  there  at  last,  he  will 
soon  be  able  to  tell  me  something  definite 
about  David's  coming  home.  I  haven't  med- 
dled a  meddle:  not  that  I've  earned  any  frill 
to  my  halo  thereby;  it's  just  that  I  know  by 
my  own  past  Caro  would  catch  up  with  me 
if  I  tried  it,  even  if  I  hadn't  promised  David. 
So  I'm  pinning  my  hopes  to  the  Peon:  he 
has  been  so  very  non-committal  that  he  must 
have  something  on  his  mind.  But  I  can't 
share  these  hopes  with  Caro,  and  they  wouldn't 
help  her  if  I  could:  she  is  in  that  stage  of 
penitence  where  it  is  against  her  principles  for 
her  to  accept  consolation,  so  far  as  David  is 
concerned.  Her  misery,  poor  little  soul,  is  the 
only  comfort  she  can  allow  herself;  and  if  her 
happiness  is  to  have  a  thorough  recovery,  the 
process  cannot  be  hurried. 

August  5th.  I  woke  at  half  past  four  this 
morning  to  find  a  fat  white  cloud  sitting  on 
the  lawn  outside,  as  if  he  owned  the  premises. 
Not  a  mountain  visible;  and  beneath  the  lo- 
custs' misty  arches  the  trees  on  the  neighbor- 


THE   BATTLE  227 

ing  lawn  gleam  pale  and  uncertain,  mere  grey- 
green  ghosts  of  living  things. 

The  cloud  isn't  altogether  outside.  My 
books  on  the  stand  beside  me  are  arching  their 
covers  with  the  dampness,  and  my  field-glasses 
are  moist  to  the  touch;  the  room  feels  dank 
and  uncanny,  and  the  heavy  air  is  hard  to 
breathe.  One  needs  a  mental  rain-coat  on  a 
day  like  this — especially  when  no  letters  come 
from  a  sky-larking  Peon ! 

August  8th.  Days  of  rain  on  the  parched 
earth.  Gray  days,  with  soft  mists  heaped 
against  the  mountains,  blending  earth  and  sky 
in  one.  Days  when  one's  horizon  is  lost — not 
gone,  but  withdrawn  from  sight;  days  when 
the  mountains  have  vanished  and  the  valleys 
melted  away,  and  nothing  is  very  clear  to  con- 
sciousness but  this  small  bed  and  the  pain  which 
lies  upon  it.  If  mists  crept  as  close  about  one's 
inner  vision,  doubt  would  seem  normal  on  days 
like  this,  and  despair  the  quintessence  of  com- 
mon sense.  Yet  under  the  veiling  vapors  the 
brown  grass  is  growing  green  again,  the  hard 
earth  soft,  instinct  with  power,  and  prodigal 
of  gifts  once  more. 


228    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

Now  comes  a  distant  roll  of  thunder,  a  wind 
that  sweeps  the  vapors  from  the  grass  as  tears 
are  wiped  from  sodden  eyes,  a  flash  of  blind- 
ing light,  a  bending  and  tossing  of  leaf-laden 
boughs ;  and  over  the  mountain  the  storm-cloud 
rises,  black  against  the  pale  gray  of  the  sky. 
Then  up  the  valley  comes  the  wall  of  water; 
and  behind  it  the  world  is  new. 

A  special  delivery  letter  from  the  Peon! 
Caro  stood  by  while  I  opened  it,  asking  noth- 
ing, but  her  color  coming  and  going.  It  was 
only  a  few  lines;  but  it  said  he  would  be  here 
on  the  tenth.  He  has  written  not  a  word  since 
he  has  been  out  there  about  the  things  nearest 
to  all  our  hearts;  but  at  least  we  shall  know 
something  in  two  days  more. 


XII 

IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

August  10th.  They  are  having  a  picnic 
supper  on  Bare  Rock  this  evening,  from  which 
nobody  in  the  house  is  excused  but  myself. 
I  am  glad  they  are  all  gone,  for  I  need  a 
little  solitude,  in  this  sudden  whirlwind  of  hap- 
piness, to  catch  my  breath  and  take  a  twist 
on  my  emotions. 

For  the  Peon,  who  is  so  literally  truthful 
that  nobody  dares  to  suspect  him  of  juggling 
with  words,  deliberately  stole  a  march  on  us 
and  walked  in  twenty-four  hours  ahead  of 
time — with  David!  Caro  and  I  were  over  in 
the  Garden.  I  was  just  where  I  am  now, 
between  the  altheas  and  the  locusts ;  but  Caro, 
who  had  been  wandering  restlessly  about,  had 
gone  down  the  hillside,  out  of  sight,  following 
an  unknown  bird-note.  I  was  looking  at  the 
poplar  branch  where  the  caterpillars  had  clus- 

229 


230    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

tered.  They  had  left  it  stripped  of  every- 
thing but  the  leaf-stalks,  which  stood  out  now 
from  the  bare  twigs  at  every  angle,  like  drunk- 
en pins  in  a  cushion.  But  the  birds  had  days 
ago  avenged  both  the  branch  and  me,  for  not 
a  crawler  was  visible  on  the  tree.  I  was  look- 
ing at  it  idly  when  the  Peon  and  David  sud- 
denly stood  under  it,  coming  round  the  big 
bed  of  hydrangeas  between  it  and  the  gate! 

I  scarcely  saw  the  Peon  for  looking  at 
David;  but  David  was  looking  for  somebody 
else. 

"  Where's  Caro? "  he  demanded,  as  he  kiss- 
ed me.  '  They  said  at  the  house  she  was 
over  here  with  you." 

"  She's  beyond  that  little  corner  of  woods," 
I  said;  "  go  around  there  and  you'll  see  her." 

As  he  went  I  fell  upon  the  Peon,  and  ex- 
tracted the  hitherto  suppressed  information 
that  Bob  White's  engagement  to  some  visitor 
from  Kentucky  had  been  announced  last 
month.  The  Peon  had  forgotten  her  name; 
but  he  carried  the  news  to  David,  who  decided 
it  was  time  for  him  to  see  Caro  at  once.  And 
the  mischief  of  a  time  he  was  taking  about 
it,  too,  the  Peon  observed  impatiently;  didn't 


they  intend  to  take  us  into  the  secret  before 
midnight? 

As  it  was  still  half  an  hour  to  sunset,  I 
reproved  him  properly;  but  I  was  myself  be- 
ginning to  fear  something  had  gone  wrong 
when  they  appeared  at  last.  The  dusk  had 
fallen,  and  I  could  not  see  their  faces  clearly; 
but  I  heard  a  soft,  happy  laugh  from  Caro 
before  they  came  around  the  corner  of  the 
woods,  and  I  knew  everything  was  all 
right. 

David  had  certainly  not  wasted  his  time. 
They  were  already  considering  the  house  that 
must  be  built  on  the  knoll  the  Peon  and  I 
had  selected  years  ago.  It  seems  he  had  picked 
it  out  himself,  and  Caro  had  agreed  to  it,  in 
her  mud-pie  days.  Now,  having  waited  so 
long,  and  finding  Caro  in  a  mood  of  un- 
dreamed-of submissiveness,  he  had  taken  mat- 
ters into  his  own  hands,  and  decided  that  he 
would  go  home  as  soon  as  they  could  settle 
on  the  plans,  and  begin  the  house  at  once. 

"  We'll  need  it,  even  so,  before  we  can  pos- 
sibly get  into  it,"  he  observed  to  me.  "  Do 
you  remember  what  you  said  to  me  that  night 
about  our  wedding?  I  told  Caro  about  it 


this  afternoon,  and  she  couldn't  deny  that  we 
ought  not  to  start  out  in  life  by  disgracing 
you  as  a  prophet.  So  it's  to  be  before  Christ- 
mas— in  September,  I  think." 

"  I  think  you've  lost  your  wits,"  replied 
Caro.  "  It  won't  be  Christmas  if  Mammy  Lil 
isn't  walking  about  everywhere  by  Thanks- 
giving. She  needn't  expect  us  to  live  up  to 
her  prophecies  if  she  won't  do  it  herself." 

"But  I  will,"  I  replied  cheerfully;  "  I  feel 
it  in  my  bones." 

"  It's  surely  time,"  said  David,  turning  my 
chair  to  the  gate.  The  Peon  and  Caro  walked 
on  ahead,  and  the  boy  bent  down  and  rubbed 
my  cheek  with  his. 

"  Sweet  Mammy,  I  know  I've  been  hard 
on  you  these  months;  but  we'll  both  make  it 
up  to  you  now.  Forgive  us  this  time,  and  let 
us  help  to  make  you  well  at  last." 

August  22nd.  What  beautiful,  happy  days 
we  have  had !  I  showed  the  Peon  all  the  won- 
ders of  the  Garden;  and  David  and  Caro 
strayed  in  and  out,  sometimes  with  the  Madam 
and  her  other  guests,  and  sometimes  in  that 
dual  solitude  lovers  crave. 

I  told  the  Peon  about  Grumpy  one  day. 


IN   THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT  233 

I  never  had  mentioned  him  before,  because 
I  never  had  been  quite  sure,  if  I  did,  that  it 
wouldn't  break  the  spell  I  had  woven,  and 
allow  him  to  appear  to  others  as  well  as  to 
me.  But  I'm  not  afraid  of  him  any  more. 

The  Peon  is  so  satisfactory!  He  never 
thought  of  laughing  at  me,  but  took  in  the 
situation  at  once.  He  said  the  best  way  to 
make  sure  of  getting  rid  of  the  wretch  was 
for  him  to  carry  Grumpy  away  when  he  went. 
He  could  put  him  in  his  suit-case — for  Grumpy 
really  is  the  tiniest  creature  imaginable  to  make 
all  the  trouble  he  does;  and  he  could  throw 
him  out  of  the  car  window  as  they  were  cross- 
ing some  deep  gorge  in  the  mountains  where 
no  human  habitation  had  ever  been.  A  blue 
devil  can't  possibly  live  where  there  are  no 
people;  so  there'd  be  an  end  of  his  mischief 
forever. 

Wasn't  that  the  cleverest  scheme?  We 
caught  him  together  yesterday  afternoon,  and 
rammed  him  into  the  suit-case,  good  and  tight. 
And  I  told  the  Peon,  before  he  went,  that  if 
he  did  many  more  stunts  like  that,  he'd  be  a 
very  satisfactory  playmate  for  me  when  the 
children  are  grown  up  and  in  their  own  house. 

And  that  is  the  end  of  Grumpy. 


234,    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

August  23rd.  They  have  gone  back,  taking 
the  plans  for  the  house  with  them.  Caro  and 
David  sketched  them  together,  and  he  will 
have  them  worked  out  at  home. 

I  think  Caro  half  envies  him  the  pleasure 
of  beginning  the  nest-building,  and  wants  to 
be  there  to  see;  but  nobody  is  willing  for  me 
to  go  back  before  the  first  of  October;  and 
the  child  has  a  deal  of  shopping  to  do.  I 
will  wait  here ;  and  Caro  will  go  to  New  York 
and  visit  Edith  Mason,  while  she  selects  her 
bridal  plumage. 

I  find  the  birds  most  joyful  company  these 
days,  and  am  planning  to  cultivate  their  ac- 
quaintance in  a  less  formal  manner;  for  I 
intend  to  get  out  of  this  chair. 

A  wheeled  chair  is  really  an  exasperating 
place  to  study  birds  from:  I  wonder  I  never 
realized  it  before.  This  very  day  the  trees 
are  full  of  them — new  birds,  many  of  them, 
gathering  for  the  fall  migration.  They  have 
been  playing  hide-and-seek  with  me  all  the 
afternoon — a  charming  game  if  one  can  do 
one's  own  part  of  it,  and  go  seeking  when  the 
other  hides;  but  if  you  can't,  it's  not  so  hilar- 
ious. They  poke  unknown  heads  through  the 


IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT  237 

tains— -all,    all,    are    flooded    with    splendid 
light. 

Augijst  29th.  A  letter  from  Cousin  Jane 
at  last!  Caro  and  I  both  wrote  to  her  while 
David  was  here,  but  she  had  not  vouchsafed 
a  reply.  David  had  a  satisfactory  interview 
with  Cousin  Chad,  after  his  return,  but  re- 
ported Cousin  Jane's  reception  of  him  as  one 
befitting  an  unrepentant  prodigal  who  had 
brought  his  swine  home  with  him.  So  we 
have  been  looking  forward  to  the  reception 
of  a  letter  from  her  as  a  very  solemn  occasion 
indeed.  She  seems  inclined,  however,  to  temper 
her  disapproval  to  Caro.  She  doesn't  expect 
her  to  be  happy  long,  she  says ;  and  she  hand- 
somely offers  not  to  disturb  her  present  dreams, 
but  to  wait  until  Caro  is  disillusioned,  when 
she  hopes  her  "  I  told  you  so  "  will  do  some 
good.  She  does  not  intend,  however,  to  cause 
any  breach  in  the  family,  her  principles  for- 
bidding her  to  quarrel  even  with  me;  and  she 
is  perfectly  willing  to  continue  her  efforts  to 
set  me  a  proper  example. 

I  suppose,  on  the  whole,  that's  doing  pretty 
well  for  Cousin  Jane.  I  don't  intend  to  have 


238    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

any  breach  in  the  family,  myself,  especially 
over  the  children's  wedding;  and  Caro  and  I 
will  find  some  way  to  appease  her  when  we  go 
home. 

August  30th.  What  bird  is  that?  He  is 
in  the  locust  yonder,  only  his  breast  visible. 
It  is  a  vivid  yellow,  with  four  irregular  scarlet 
spots — three  on  one  side  and  one  on  the  other 
— and  across  his  breast  a  long  zig-zag  line 
of  scarlet  like  a  jagged  wound.  There  isn't 
any  bird  like  that :  I  know  it ;  and  if  he  doesn't, 
he  ought  to.  Yet  there  he  sits,  as  calm  as 
if  he  were  in  all  the  books  and  had  as  much 
right  in  the  Garden  as  I.  I  have  watched  him, 
and  recorded  him,  yet  he  doesn't  move. 

Well,  I'll  just  make  him:  I'm  not  tied  to 
this  chair! 

A  scarlet  tanager,  moulting!  No  wonder 
I  never  saw  that  before.  He  is  always  scarlet- 
and-black  when  he  goes  through  Tennessee  in 
the  spring,  and  yellow  and  olive  when  he  goes 
back  in  the  fall.  He  looks  like  the  clown  in 
a  circus  now,  and  I  don't  wonder  that  he  seeks 
the  seclusion  of  the  mountains  to  change  his 
clothes.  He  is  gone,  of  course,  before  I  can 


IN   THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT  235 

leaves,  and  survey  me  coolly.  They  whisk  tails 
I  can't  even  guess  at  from  behind  a  limb, 
and  are  gone.  They  sing  high  overhead,  with 
only  a  bit  of  their  under  feathers  visible,  or 
flirt  a  half-seen  wing  behind  an  opening  in 
the  leaves.  Sorting  heads,  tails,  and  middles 
is  a  hopeless  job  when  you  haven't  an  idea 
which  belongs  to  which.  If  it  were  only  a 
Chinese  puzzle,  you'd  know  when  it  was 
solved;  but  a  tail  with  any  other  head  would 
look  as  sweet!  I've  thought  all  summer  that 
if  a  hyper-developed  sense  of  touch  can  serve 
the  blind  for  eyes,  surely  time  and  patience 
could  do  the  work  of  feet  for  me;  but  I'm 
thinking  patience  may  cease  to  be  a  virtue 
soon! 

August  26th.  We  have  had  two  days  of 
storm.  They  mark  both  a  beginning  and  an 
end;  for  a  subtle  change  has  passed  over  the 
mountains  and  lingers,  though  wind  and  rain 
be  gone.  A  tinge  of  brown,  merely  suspected 
before,  has  deepened  and  spread  until  it  chal- 
lenges and  commands  the  eye.  Some  of  the 
nearer  trees  look  seared,  and  the  poplars, 
especially,  look  withered  and  old.  But  there 


236    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

is  a  beauty  of  soul  deeper  than  that  of  the 
flesh  and  of  youth:  and  the  depth  and  power 
of  Xature's  charm,  like  the  freedom  of  our 
own  souls,  can  be  best  measured  by  the  number 
and  splendor  of  the  things  which  can  be  laid 
aside.  All  the  glamour  of  the  young  spring, 
the  splendid  lavishness  of  summer  days,  the 
riot  of  color  and  sunshine — these  things,  which 
yearly  draw  us  with  new  fascination  and  de- 
light, are  but  the  broidered  outer  curtain  of 
the  temple.  They  lure  us  past  them,  into 
the  inner  court,  to  a  strength  which  knows  no 
defeat,  to  an  abundance  which  can  afford  to 
be  stripped ;  to  Law  which  cannot  be  thwarted 
nor  checked;  and  beyond  Law  to  a  Power 
which  reason  can  neither  explain  nor  explain 
away. 

For  myself,  I  have  my  message;  the  hills 
have  spoken  it.  And  the  pain  which  wrenches 
is  back  where  it  belongs,  in  the  second  place 
— or  the  twentieth.  Morever,  it  will  pass — 
to-morrow,  or  next  year,  or  in  a  life-time:  it 
is  not  of  the  things  which  remain. 

And  now  the  clouds  are  breaking  for  a  sun- 
set glory,  and  the  porch  where  I  lie,  and 
the  lawn  beyond  it,  even  the  shadowed  moun- 


IN   THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT  239 

apologize  for  my  intrusion ;  and  I  suppose  his 
opinion  of  me  is  scarcely  fit  to  print. 

September  18th.  Caro  is  back  from  New 
York,  and  we  leave  a  week  from  to-day.  We 
have  decided  to  shave  a  few  days  off  the  limit 
set  by  the  Peon:  if  we  don't  hurry,  David 
will  have  that  house  half  finished  before  we 
get  there,  and  we  want  to  see  it  go  up  from 
the  begining  ourselves.  Besides,  Caro  wants 
a  little  time  with  Milly.  Her  wedding  is  set 
for  the  last  of  October,  and  Caro's  is  to  be 
six  weeks  later.  I'm  afraid  it  will  take  stren- 
uous work  to  get  Cousin  Jane  where  we  want 
her  by  that  time ;  but  if  we  go  home  and  start 
on  her  at  once,  the  thing  may  be  done. 

September  24th.  The  last  day  in  the  Gar- 
den! The  Mistress  has  been  out,  and  I  have 
been  trying,  in  rather  a  bungling  way,  to  make 
her  understand  what  she  has  done  for  me. 
Neither  she  nor  the  Madam  can  know  the 
whole  of  it,  and  I  hope  they  never  will;  for 
they  would  have  to  live  in  the  same  prison- 
house  to  understand  what  a  door  of  escape 
means. 


240    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

Eh,  but  the  summer  is  over,  and  I  count 
my  stay  by  hours ! — Yes ;  but  the  summer  will 
never  end.  Even  when  the  prison  is  lost  sight 
of,  the  door  of  escape  will  remain  a  delight. 
The  things  that  hurt  pass,  and  are  forgotten; 
things  not  understood  change  and  grow  clear: 
but  joy  does  not  change,  not  kindness,  nor 
anything  that  makes  life  worth  while.  And 
so,  good-bye  to  the  Garden. 


XIII 

WHILE  THE  NEST  WAS  BUILDING 

September  30th.  We  reached  home  three 
days  ago,  having  forestalled  the  possibility  of 
orders  not  to  come  by  concealing  our  plans 
until  we  were  on  the  way. 

The  house  is  no  house  at  all  yet,  of  course. 
Caro  calls  it  the  Perchery  at  present,  and 
says  she  will  give  it  a  name  when  we  can  all 
sit  in  it,  instead  of  roosting  on  stones  outside 
and  staring  at  the  place  where  it  is  going  to 
be.  But  the  cellar  is  finished,  anyway,  and 
is  of  ample  proportions,  as  a  country  cellar 
should  be;  and  until  we  get  something  else  to 
admire,  we  find  it  an  absorbing  subject  of  con- 
templation. Even  Cousin  Jane  was  delighted 
with  it,  and  still  more  with  Caro's  promise 
to  go  home  with  her  and  stay  until  after  the 
wedding. 

Caro  went  over  there  as  soon  as  I  was  set- 

241 


242    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

tied  in  bed  for  a  rest,  and  came  back  glowing 
with  triumph.  Cousin  Jane  was  coming  in 
the  morning  to  spend  the  day,  and  to  take 
the  child  back  home  with  her  in  the  evening. 
"  And  oh,  Mammy  Lil,  she's  perfectly 
charmed  with  David,  and  quite  certain  she 
picked  him  out  for  me !  The  shock  of  it  nearly 
bowled  me  over  for  a  minute.  You  know  that 
big  New  York  bank  that  failed  a  week  or  two 
ago?  Everybody  thought  Bob's  father's  bank 
was  mixed  up  in  it,  and  there  was  a  regular 
run  on  it.  David  and  Daddy  Jack  were  too 
full  of  the  Perchery  to  mention  it ;  but  it  con- 
verted Cousin  Jane  straight  through.  The 
bank's  all  right — I  asked  David  about  it,  driv- 
ing home — but  you  can't  make  Cousin  Jane 
believe  it.  She  thinks  a  bank  should  be  above 
suspicion  by  anybody,  and  if  it  isn't,  it's  a 
whited  sepulchre  forevermore.  So  she's  de- 
lighted that  she  had  the  good  sense  to  pass 
over  a  fellow  like  Bob,  who  comes  from  a 
family  of  speculators,  and  choose  for  me  a 
good,  steady,  kind,  reliable  business  man  like 
David  Bird,  instead.  I  wish  you  could  hear 
her,  Mammy  Lil;  she's  downright  edifying. 
And  she  fairly  beamed  on  David,  though  he 


THE  NEST-BUILDING         243 

hadn't  been  near  her  for  weeks.  Everything's 
all  right,  if  only  the  hot  weather  doesn't  make 
you  sick.  If  they'd  told  us  how  hot  it  was, 
I  wouldn't  have  brought  you  home." 

The  heat  was  extraordinary  for  the  time 
of  the  year,  and  still  continues  so ;  but  it  didn't 
keep  Cousin  Jane  at  home,  though  usually 
she  won't  budge  unless  it's  cool. 

She  was  in  high  good  humor,  and  evidenced 
it  by  a  peck  on  my  cheek  and  the  remark  that 
I  must  be  getting  better,  for  I  really  didn't 
look  so  very  many  years  older  than  I  was. 
She  approved  of  the  plans  for  the  house,  es- 
pecially when  she  found  it  was  to  be  our 
wedding  gift  to  Caro ;  and  she  went  out  "  to 
perch,"  at  Caro's  invitation,  and  admired  every 
stone  in  the  foundations.  Then  she  came  in 
and  settled  seriously  down  to  the  subject  of 
clothes. 

It  seems  that  Grace  is  lavishing  on  Milly's 
outfit  all  the  pretty  things  Cousin  Jason  pre- 
vented her  from  giving  the  child  in  her  girl- 
hood; and  Cousin  Jane's  family  pride  has  ris- 
en in  a  most  desirable  and  unexpected  manner 
to  demand  that  Caro  shall  be  as  well  provided 
for  as  her  cousin;  so  Caro  can  prepare  in 


244    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

peace.  Cousin  Jane  even  proposes  to  help 
her,  tooth  and  nail.  Caro  and  I  are  a  little 
daunted  by  this  excess  of  zeal,  Cousin  Jane's 
taste — or  lack  of  it — being  a  byword  in  the 
family.  But  Caro  will  find  a  way  to  manage 
her ;  and  we  have  already  settled  the  question 
of  the  dress  she  is  to  wear  at  the  wedding.  I 
had  Caro  buy  it  for  me  in  New  York — a  soft, 
rich,  silken  fabric — and  it  is  to  be  made  by 
the  best  dressmaker  in  the  city.  If  we  left  it 
to  Cousin  Jane,  she  would  get  old  black  Sally 
to  make  it,  at  seventy-five  cents  a  day ;  she  says 
it's  sinful  to  waste  money  on  town  dress- 
makers. 

But  she  doesn't  mind  my  wasting  it  for  her. 
If  there  was  a  corner  of  her  heart  still  con- 
gealed it  melted  when  she  took  the  silk  be- 
tween her  finger  and  thumb,  and  fully  tested 
its  quality. 

"It's  an  elegant  present,  Lyddy,"  she  de- 
clared graciously,  "  an'  I  don't  mind  taking 
it  from  you  one  mite.  I've  always  said  you 
meant  well;  an'  it  ain't  your  fault  if  you're 
foolish." 

Could  I  ask  for  a  handsomer  coat  of  white- 
wash than  that? 


THE  NEST-BUILDING        245 

October  2nd.  Last  night  was  sticky,  hot, 
and  still,  with  the  stars  flaming  overhead,  as 
though  they  were  trying  to  burn  the  heavens. 
I  fell  asleep  at  last,  to  be  wakened  suddenly 
by  a  sound  as  if  the  wind  were  ripping  the  sky 
off  the  earth,  and  ten  million  tons  of  water  were 
sluicing  through  the  hole.  The  world  was  all 
one  glare  of  light,  with  sudden,  momentary 
breaks  of  darkness,  while  a  roar  as  of  a  thou- 
and  batteries  surged  up  from  every  quarter 
of  the  heavens,  and  rilled  to  bursting  the 
black  void  above  our  heads.  I  sprang  up 
to  close  the  windows,  my  ankles  brushed  by 
quick,  ghostly  touches,  as  loose  papers  skit- 
tered over  the  floor. 

The  Peon  and  David  came  in,  in  hastly  don- 
ned attire,  for  the  storm  was  altogether  out  of 
the  ordinary.  The  house  trembled  like  a  living 
thing,  and  in  the  air  about  us  we  could  feel  the 
crackle  of  the  blinding  light.  Then  came  a 
crash  that  split  the  earth.  A  moment  later, 
through  the  surging  billows  of  water  hurled 
through  the  wind-rent  air,  we  saw  a  sudden, 
leaping  light,  red  in  the  white  electric  glare. 
A  huddled  company  of  straw-stacks  had  been 
struck  by  the  descending  bolt,  and  not  even 


246    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

that  flood  of  water  could  quench  the  flames. 
The  heavy  clouds,  weighted  almost  to  earth, 
caught  the  sullen  glow  beneath  them,  and  as 
they  were  flung  onward  and  upward  by  the 
screaming  wind,  carried  the  lurid  colors  of  de- 
struction far  into  the  blackness  overhead.  One 
moment  a  world  of  blinding  white,  as  the  light- 
ning blotted  out  everything  but  its  own  wild 
glare.  The  next,  a  red  and  lowering  world,  sul- 
len, portentous,  with  the  evil  color  spreading, 
climbing,  licking  out  on  all  sides  in  an  orgy  of 
ruin  and  waste  whose  greed  defied  the  cata- 
racts of  water,  and  made  the  wild  wind  its 
minister  and  slave. 

The  air  rocked  with  the  thunderous  down- 
pour under  the  crashing  clouds.  One  of  the 
maples  fell  prone  in  the  lightning's  glare; 
and  from  every  side  came  the  sound  of  rending 
wood  as  branches  were  wrenched  and  split  and 
hurled  across  the  lawn.  The  house  shook, 
while  around  us  and  above  us  the  Titans 
fought.  In  the  presence  of  that  unveiled  power 
one's  own  small  life  dwindled  to  nothingness. 
One  marvelled  that  human  feebleness  yet  held 
a  place  in  a  world  so  charged  with  forces, 
the  least  of  which  could  wipe  out  all  human 


THE  NEST-BUILDING        247 

effort  and  leave  the  earth  as  bare  as  a  new- 
sponged  slate. 

Yet  the  fury  passed.  The  Titans  screamed 
and  fought,  but  their  power  waned.  The  wind 
wavered  and  sank,  sobbing  like  a  beaten  child ; 
the  rain  splashed  dully,  dripping  from  porches 
and  eaves;  the  thunder  died  on  distant  hills, 
and  the  lightnings  grew  fitful  and  weak.  Even 
the  storm-born  flames  were  spent,  until  only 
a  hot  coal  of  light  glowed  under  the  breaking 
clouds.  A  star  shone  here  and  there,  mirrored 
in  the  rain-pools  of  the  drenched  fields. 

David  opened  the  windows,  and  we  drank 
in  the  freshness  of  the  storm-cleansed  air.  The 
new-washed  leaves,  still  green  with  summer 
time,  whispered  in  the  quietness,  and  here  and 
there  a  cricket  chirped,  or  a  night-bird  called 
to  its  mate.  Power  was  veiled  again,  with- 
drawn ;  and  life  that  had  trembled  in  the  bal- 
ance resumed  its  wonted  course. 

October  9th.  I  asked  Grace  to-day  about 
Cousin  Jason.  I  knew  she  was  worrying  over 
something.  Milly  might  be  happy,  but  she 
wasn't.  So  I  asked  her  how  he  did. 


248    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

"  He  won't  speak  to  me,  Lil,  at  all.  I  have 
been  there  two  or  three  times ;  but  he  wouldn't 
see  me." 

"  Isn't  he  coming  to  the  wedding?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  wrote  to  ask  him  that — to  show  him  we 
really  wanted  him ;  but  he  sent  the  letter  back." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  unwonted  tears,  and  I 
had  a  sudden  desire  to  jerk  my  jaybird  cousin's 
feathers  out  by  the  roots. 

'  You'll  just  have  to  train  your  thoughts  to 
keep  away  from  him,  Grace,"  I  said.  "  I  know 
you  can,  for  I've  steered  my  own  clear  of  a  lot 
of  things  I  simply  don't  dare  to  fool  with. 
Don't  shake  your  head  at  me,  madam!  Do  you 
think  Milly  doesn't  see  that  look  in  your  eyes 
when  you  sit  and  think  about  Cousin  Jason? 
Are  you  going  to  let  him  hurt  her  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  not,"  she  said  firmly.  "  I'll  make 
my  eyes  behave." 

"  Then  you'll  have  to  make  your  thoughts 
behave  behind  your  eyes.  You  let  Cousin  Ja- 
son alone.  If  you'll  quit  paying  attention  to 
him  long  enough,  he'll  come  round ;  but  as  long 
as  you  give  him  a  chance  to  rebuff  you,  he'll 
amuse  himself  doing  it. 

Grace  laughed. 


THE  NEST-BUILDING        249 

"  Shall  I  follow  your  advice  or  your  ex- 
ample— you  door-mat  for  Cousin  Jane?  " 

I  laughed  myself. 

"  Never  mind.  We  can  find  out  how  to  do 
a  thing  perfectly,  many  a  time,  just  by  doing 
it  the  way  it  shouldn't  be  done.  And  I  did 
send  Cousin  Jane  home  once.  I  know  the 
recording  angel  put  that  down  to  my  credit." 

We  fell  to  talking  of  her  plans.  Milly  and 
her  husband  are  to  live  with  her,  he  going  in  to 
his  business  daily,  like  the  Peon.  But  Grace 
wants  them  to  have  this  first  winter  alone  to- 
gether *  So  as  soon  as  they  get  back  from  their 
wedding  trip,  and  Caro  is  married,  she  ex- 
pects to  go  away  with  George's  niece,  and 
spend  the  winter  travelling. 

The  Peon  and  I  will  stay  at  Bird  Corners. 
The  children  will  be  gone  for  five  or  six  weeks, 
and  by  the  time  they  come  home  the  Perch- 
ery  will  almost  be  ready  for  them  to  begin 
feathering  their  nest. — And  to  think  it's  the 
real  Bird  Corners,  and  not  Make-Believe  at 
aU! 

October  16th.  The  young  mocking-birds  are 
learning  to  sing,  and  their  efforts  are  alto- 


250    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

gether  charming.  They  sit  apart,  crooning, 
each  to  himself,  trying  their  score  over  and 
over,  thoughtfully,  with  pauses  in  which  they 
teem  to  search  their  memories  for  forgotten 
notes.  It  is  as  if  melody  had  come  with  them 
from  the  land  of  dreams,  and  they  were  trying 
to  catch  and  hold  the  elusive  sweetness,  and 
teach  it  to  come  at  their  command.  The  soft, 
dreamy  music  floats  through  the  October  sun- 
shine, at  once  a  memory  and  a  hope.  It  is  a 
song  of  the  garnered  years,  an  inheritance 
from  old  days  of  love  and  aspiration,  and  it 
presages  days  of  love  and  aspiration  yet  to  be. 
But  more  than  both  of  these,  it  voices  the  peace 
of  autumn  days,  when  the  earth  has  finished  the 
long  year's  toil,  and  turns  to  its  hard-won  rest 
in  the  quiet  of  the  misty  sunshine. 

October  20th.  I  don't  need  my  note-book 
these  days.  When  one  can  do  so  much  living 
with  people  the  birds  are  no  longer  a  necessity. 
I  hear  their  songs  and  calls,  and  know  them 
for  the  voices  of  my  friends — real  friends  for 
life.  But  Caro  comes  over  nearly  every  day, 
and  always  there  is  so  much  to  talk  about. 
And  often  Cousin  Jane  comes  too;  and  it's 


THE  NEST-BUILDING        251 

positively  exhilarating  to  see  the  way  Caro  and 
I  are  corrupting  her  morals.  That  old  lady  is 
getting  as  worldly-minded  as  if  there  were  not 
a  blackbird  saint  in  existence. 

The  dressmaker  made  her  get  a  modern 
corset  to  be  fitted  in,  and  she's  so  pleased 
with  herself  in  it  that  she  wears  it  all  the  time. 
She  really  looks  like  another  person,  for  Caro 
has  coaxed  her  into  curl-papers  o'  nights,  and 
the  soft  gray  fluff  around  her  face  is  amaz- 
ingly different  from  the  wide  part  with  the  flat 
straight  bands  plastered  over  her  temples  and 
ears.  The  old  Buff  Orpington  doesn't  know 
her  any  more,  and  Caro  says  he  shrieks  and 
runs  at  the  sight  of  her. 

Everybody  in  Chatterton  notices  the  change, 
and  tells  her  she  looks  years  younger — as  she 
does ;  and  the  other  evening  Cousin  Chad  took 
up  the  tale,  and  grew  positively  sentimental, 
right  before  Caro.  Cousin  Jane  blushed  and 
bridled  as  she  must  have  done  over  forty  years 
ago,  and  next  day  she  bought  the  prettiest 
stuff  for  a  house  dress,  and  carried  it  to  the 
wedding-gown  dressmaker  to  make !  She  says 
it's  every  woman's  Christian  duty  to  be  at- 
tractive in  her  own  home,  and  that  if  Chadwell 


252    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

will  be  a  boy  and  like  frippery,  she'll  have  to 
give  in  to  him ;  the  Lord  didn't  give  men  much 
sense  anyway,  and  you  just  have  to  humor 
them  along,  like  children. 

I  feel  rather  ashamed  of  myself,  I  must 
confess.  I've  been  laughing  at  her  all  these 
years,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  family,  and  been 
cross  with  her  inside,  often.  And  what  she 
needed  most  was  for  somebody  to  see  the  sim- 
ple human  need  for  praise  and  petting  under 
all  her  strident  aggressiveness;  for  as  soon  as 
she  got  it  she  blossomed  out  like  this!  I  said 
as  much  to  Caro  to-day,  and  she  cocked  her 
head  suddenly  to  one  side  as  if  she  heard  some- 
one calling  her.  Then  she  jumped  up,  laugh- 
ing, spun  around  on  one  toe,  and  caught  me  in 
her  arms.  She  said  I'd  given  her  such  a  big 
idea  I'd  taken  her  breath  away.  She  wouldn't 
tell  me  what  it  was,  but  ran  off  to  the  buggy 
and  drove  singing  down  to  the  gate. 

October  24th.  Caro  has  given  me  the  shock 
of  my  life.  I've  seen  she  had  some  kind  of  bee 
in  her  bonnet  for  three  or  four  days,  but  she 
was  bent  on  beingi  mysterious,  so  I  didn't 
tease. 


THE  NEST-BUILDING        253 

Yesterday,  as  I  sat  on  the  side  porch,  whip- 
ping lace,  I  saw  her  buggy  coming  out  from 
between  the  cedars,  and  Cousin  Jason  was  in 
it!  Caro  was  beaming,  as  usual,  and  Cousin 
Jason  looked  as  if  he  were  having  a  good  time, 
and  embarrassed  to  know  what  to  do  with  it. 
I  went  to  meet  them  as  they  drove  toward  the 
Perchery. 

He  greeted  me  awkwardly,  and  explained 
that  Caro  wanted  him  to  see  her  house,  and 
that  he'd  had  no  more  sense  than  to  give  in  to 
her  and  come.  Caro  dashed  at  him  at  once. 

*  You  mean  you  had  sense  enough  to  come," 
she  corrected.  "  Cousin  Jason  really  has  lots 
of  sense,  Mammy  Lil,  only  he  thought  it  was 
nonsense  and  tried  his  best  to  hide  it.  We're 
going  up  to  town  together  to-morrow  on  a 
lark — just  we  two." 

"  I  haven't  promised  yet,"  he  growled. 

"  You  needn't  promise,"  said  Caro  sweetly. 
"  I  told  you  it  wasn't  necessary.  All  you  need 
to  do  is  to  go." 

She  made  him  admire  the  house  and  the 
plans;  and  when  he  objected  to  her  numerous 
'closets  she  assured  him  that  his  ideas  were  all 
wrong,  and  that  the  lack  of  closets  in  his  own 


254    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

house  was  the  root  of  most  of  his  troubles ;  he 
needed  them  to  pack  his  skeletons  in,  instead  of 
entertaining  them  in  public.  They  went  off 
together  presently ;  but  Caro  promised  to  come 
back  this  evening  and  spend  the  night.  I  knew 
I  should  have  the  tale  then. 

She  came,  and  the  three  of  us  had  dinner 
together,  the  Peon  being  in  town.  And  now 
that  she  and  David  are  at  the  piano  in  the  next 
room,  I  must  finish  the  story. 

She  went  straight  from  here  the  other  day 
to  Cousin  Jason's,  and  told  him  she  wanted 
him  to  come  to  Milly's  wedding  and  give  the 
bride  away.  He  was  too  amazed  to  be  angry 
at  first ;  and  when  he  did  get  angry,  Caro  stood 
her  ground,  kept  her  temper,  and  gave  him 
what  she  called  a  preachment — a  mixture  of 
fun,  coaxing,  and  straight-from-the-shoulder 
talking.  She  made  no  impression,  apparently, 
so  when  she  was  ready  to  go  she  left,  assuring 
him  cheerfully  that  she  would  be  back  in  the 
morning  and  take  the  matter  up  with  him 
again. 

He  had  always  liked  Caro,  and  her  sheer  au- 
dacity pleased  him.  She  took  her  work  the  next 
morning  and  spent  the  day.  When  Cousin  Ja- 


THE  NEST-BUILDING         255 

son  grew  weary  of  argument,  he  went  out  on 
the  farm;  but  Caro  was  there  when  he  came 
back.  She  had  carried  over  various  good  things 
to  eat,  and  gave  him  a  lunch  such  as  he  hadn't 
enjoyed  since  he  left  Grace's.  She  argued, 
coaxed,  ridiculed,  and  scolded.  And  by  the  time 
David,  who  was  sworn  to  secrecy,  came  by  to 
take  her  driving,  Cousin  Jason  had  promised 
to  think  the  matter  over. 

I  don't  believe  it  was  what  the  child  said 
that  impressed  his  stubborn  nature ;  he  simply 
found  Caro  herself  irresistible. 

When  she  left  him  that  day,  his  anger  with 
Grace,  she  said,  was  really  a  crumbling  ruin; 
but  he  didn't  realize  it ;  so  she  went  back  next 
morning  to  topple  it  to  its  fall.  By  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  he  had  said  that  if  he  could 
be  convinced  Grace  really  wanted  him,  he 
would  go.  Caro  immediately  challenged  him  to 
go  there  with  her  to  dinner  that  night,  take 
Grace  by  surprise,  and  see  for  himself.  When 
he  refused  she  taunted  him  with  backing  out  of 
his  own  test,  and  dared  him  to  the  scratch. 
She  telephoned  Grace  finally  that  she  wanted 
to  bring  a  friend  to  dinner,  and  they  drove 
over  together. 


256    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

"  Milly  and  Bobolink  were  out  in  his  car," 
she  said ;  "  and  Cousin  Grace  didn't  see  us 
coming.  We  walked  right  in  on  her  in  the 
living-room  before  she  knew  he  was  there." 
Caro  paused  to  wipe  her  eyes.  "  I'll  cry  for 
six  months  whenever  I  think  about  it.  I  don't 
see  how  Cousin  Grace  can  care  so  much — he's 
been  so  hateful  to  her.  I  thought  she  was  going 
to  faint  at  first.  Then  she  stood  there  speech- 
less, her  hands  stretched  out,  and  her  face  the 
most  beautiful  thing  I  ever  saw.  He  called 
her  name  and  went  toward  her,  and  she  just 
slipped  into  his  arms  with  one  long  sob,  as  if 
her  heart  were  breaking.  And  I  went  out  and 
shut  the  door." 

When  Milly  came  in  she  was  plainly  over- 
joyed, for  her  mother's  sake,  if  not  for  his; 
and  Bobolink,  Caro  declared,  behaved  like  an 
archangel.  She  inconsistently  elucidated  this 
remark  by  explaining  that  he  had  been  brought 
up  on  a  farm  and  was  as  crazy  about  the 
country  as  I  am  myself;  and  he  has  always 
kept  up  his  knowledge  of  agriculture  and  his 
interest  in  it.  Cousin  Jason,  who  had  taken 
him  for  what  he  politely  terms  a  city  fool, 
thawed  visibly  toward  him  during  the  evening. 


THE  NEST-BUILDING        257 

And  before  he  left  he  had  promised  to  give  the 
bride  away. 

Caro,  who  believes  in  striking  while  the  iron 
is  hot,  offered  to  go  to  town  with  him  the  next 
day  to  order  his  dress-suit  for  the  occasion.  As 
the  wedding  is  to  be  on  the  twenty-ninth, 
there  is  certainly  no  time  to  lose.  But  Cousin 
Jason,  who  has  scorned  conventionality  all  his 
life,  balked  instantly,  and  declared  that  if  he 
had  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  to  do  it  he 
wouldn't  come  to  the  wedding  at  all. 

Grace  agreed  at  once  to  his  wearing  any- 
thing he  chose;  but  Caro  was  resolved  to  carry 
her  point. 

"  You  see,  Mammy  Lil,  he  was  just  in  re- 
treat, and  I  had  to  rout  him.  If  I  had  let 
him  make  a  stand  about  the  clothes  he'd  wear 
I'd  have  been  throwing  away  my  victory.  So 
I  told  him  he  had  to  have  a  dress-suit.  He'd 
need  it  for  my  wedding  as  well  as  Milly's.  I 
didn't  tell  him  before  Cousin  Grace ;  I  waited 
till  he  drove  me  back  to  Cousin  Jane's.  And 
next  day  I  went  over  again  to  sit  up  with  him 
about  it." 

"He  ought  to  have  admired  your  persist- 


ence." 


258    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

'  That's  just  what  I  told  him.  He  began 
to  weaken  a  little,  so  I  brought  him  over  and 
showed  him  the  Perchery  as  a  reward.  And  he 
went  this  very  day.  The  tailor  said  he  couldn't 
make  it  in  time,  and  Cousin  Jason  crowed  and 
said  he'd  told  me  so.  But  I  explained  to  the 
tailor  that  he  could  make  it,  and  that  he  had 
it  to  do.  So  he  agreed.  We  bought  gloves, 
and  a  tie,  and  everything ;  and  I  made  him  get 
his  hair  cut,  and  he's  going  to  look  scrump- 
tious. You  really  haven't  an  idea  what  can  be 
done  with  an  old  relation  till  you  begin  to  fur- 
bish him  up." 

October  30th.  Milly  was  married  in  church, 
and  she  and  Cousin  Jason  and  Grace  stopped 
by  here  on  their  way  to  the  wedding  for  me  to 
see  them.  Milly  was  beautiful,  and  no  bride 
but  Caro  could  be  sweeter;  and  Grace,  all  in 
silvery  gray,  with  that  deep  light  in  her  eyes, 
was  like  nothing  but  the  Moonlight  Son- 
ata. As  to  Cousin  Jason,  he  was  furbished 
almost  past  recognition;  and  my  admiration 
pleased  him  like  a  boy. 

Caro  fluttered  about  them,  radiant  in  her 
bridesmaid's  dress,  and  followed  by  David's 


THE  NEST-BUILDING         259> 

adoring  eyes.  The  Peon  escorted  Grace ;  and 
after  awhile  I  watched  the  carriages  coming 
back.  Before  they  left  for  the  station  Caro 
telephoned  me,  and  Uncle  Milton  wheeled  me 
down  to  the  gate,  where  I  waved  my  handker- 
chief and  cast  my  handful  of  rice  as  they  drove 
by,  Milly's  exquisite  face  alight  with  a  look 
her  husband  may  well  carry  in  his  heart  always. 

November  29th.  How  fast  the  days  slip 
by!  Milly  came  home  early  in  the  week,  and 
yesterday  was  the  Thanksgiving  I  prophesied 
about  to  David  last  spring. 

Certainly  I  am  going  all  about  the  house; 
and  to  emphasize  my  success  as  a  seer  we  had 
a  family  gathering  at  Thanksgiving  dinner. 
The  bride  and  groom  were  here,  of  course,  and 
Grace,  who  leaves  as  soon  as  Caro  is  married, 
and  Cousin  Jason — resplendent,  by  the  way, 
in  his  dress-suit,  which  he  considered  a  capital 
joke  on  Caro.  Cousin  Jane  looked  not  a  day 
over  fifty,  and  Cousin  Chad  had  done  some 
furbishing  himself  to  keep  her  company. 

To  think  of  a  dinner  party  at  Bird  Corners 
again,  after  all  these  years!  The  Peon  and  I 
beamed  at  one  another  from  the  ends  of  the 


260    IX  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

table;  and  in  the  centre,  the  bride  and  groom, 
faced  the  bride-and-groom-to-be,  with  the 
older  people  tucked  in  at  the  corners.  And 
it  was  all  so  good  to  see  and  hear — such  a  fairy 
tale  come  true — that,  as  I  lie  here  to-day  rest- 
ing, I  am  just  too  happy  for  words. 

David  and  Caro  are  to  be  married  next 
Wednesday — married  here,  at  Bird  Corners. 
I  dare  not  risk  going  to  the  church  yet,  and 
Cousin  Jane's  is  quite  as  far  away.  Besides, 
both  the  children  want  it  here,  and  it  is  and 
always  has  been  Caro's  home  as  well  as  Da- 
vid's. Cousin  Jane  has  really  been  sweet 
about  it;  and  it  is  all  settled  that  she  and  Caro 
are  to  come  over  in  time  for  me  to  help  dress 
the  bride.  Grace  is  coming  tomorrow,  and  will 
stay  with  me  until  it  is  all  over  and  she  goes 
away  herself. 

December  9th.  The  wedding  day  was  per- 
fect— cloudless  blue,  and  the  little  red  wren 
singing  his  matins  in  the  lilac  almost  before  it 
was  light.  I  am  glad  the  child  is  a  winter 
bride.  She  can  afford  to  ignore  the  seasons, 
for  she  carries  spring-time  in  her  heart,  like 
her  namesake  out  of  doors. 


THE  NEST-BUILDING         2(51 

It  was  all  beautiful,  and  I  with  my  own 
hands  helped  to  make  it  so.  But  nothing 
about  it  is  very  clear  to  me  except  the  look 
in  the  children's  eyes — our  children,  both  of 
them,  at  last.  Caro's  joy  had  sobered  her,  so 
that  she  walked  the  earth  in  radiance,  instead 
of  fluttering,  light-winged,  above  it;  but  Da- 
vid's joy  had  set  him  on  the  heights.  Oh,  my 
son,  my  son,  child  of  my  soul  always !  I  could 
not  have  borne  the  look  upon  his  face  if  I  had 
not  known  Caro  through  and  through.  But 
now  I  am  not  afraid. 

Grace  went  the  day  after  the  wedding,  and 
left  me  in  a  world  where  real  and  Make-  Be- 
lieve are  blended  into  one.  The  Peon  comes 
home  early,  and  together  we  walk  across  the 
grass  to  the  Perchery,  and  talk  of  how  he 
wheeled  me  there  in  those  sorrowful  days  last 
spring,  when  it  seemed  the  knoll  would  never 
know  the  nest  we  longed  to  see  there.  And  in 
the  evening  we  sit  in  the  firelight  together,  and 
hear  the  childish  voices  of  long  ago  in  the  room, 
and  childish  feet  in  the  hall.  And  we  laugh 
over  the  good  old  days,  and  smile  over  the  new 
days,  which  are  better.  And  before  I  go  to 
bed  we  go  to  the  window  and  look  at  the  chil- 


262    IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  DELIGHT 

dren's  house,  standing  clear  against  the  stars. 
And  they  come  and  stand  beside  us  there,  their 
tiny  hands  in  ours — the  dear,  long-ago  little 
children,  who  will  be  with  us  always,  though 
the  big  children,  dearer  still,  come  and  go 
across  the  grass  between  their  home  and  ours. 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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